


Sick Wings

by sacheverell



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Denial of Feelings, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Poison, Slow Build, Starvation, drugged
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2013-10-13
Packaged: 2017-12-29 08:02:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1002951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sacheverell/pseuds/sacheverell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel knows he's wasting away. Knows he can't go on the way he is for much longer. He's too sick. Too weak. And when he falls, and he knows he will, what he really needs is someone to catch him. If he can learn to trust him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

One more pound of the hammer Castiel knew his arm was going to fall off. His fingers hurt where blisters were forming and his shoulder ached as he slammed the head down again.

“One more” he promised himself. Empty words. He had a long row of braces that had to be nailed still. He could hear the shuffling fat steps of Mr. Zach behind him and his neck prickled uncomfortably. He didn’t like the way the old fat man’s eyes lingered on Cas when he walked by, or the way he felt the need to lean quite so into Cas’s space to check on things.

Mr. Zach kept walking though and Cas kept pounding away, feeling each nail all the way through his bones.

He should be better at this by now, he berated himself. He was better. He was stronger all the while, his skin tougher and his hair longer. He took a deep breath to steady himself when the wood in front of him started to double. It didn’t matter at what cost, the row had to be finished today. End of point.

Resolutely he pounded away, passing the time counting the sweat drips that rolled off his nose, each one a point of health. Sweating was healthy. Sign of a good healthy body.

He no longer had to feel betrayed and at war. He could be comfortable.

 

Hours later, after the blasted row had actually been finished and he had walked himself home, drunken with exhaustion, he dropped into his only chair. He toed his shoes off slowly, relishing the cool air. Until it just felt cold. And he wished his heater worked. Instead he tucked his feet under him and pulled the chair’s blanket over him, resting his head against his shoulder. His house always felt so empty at this time of the day. After all the bustle had died and he was done with all the requirements. He didn’t know what to do with himself. He supposed he should read a book, but he’d over-read all the ones he owned. He could buy a new one. Hardly.

He entertained this thought, his eyes closed, curled under the blanket until the evening became night. Finally, having spent his time, he rose and went to his bed where he curled under piles of randomly acquired blankets and pillows and sheets.

“Good night” he said to no one.

 

The next morning he made himself coffee, sipping it bitter and dark. Pure. It was in its pure form. He took a quick shower, knowing his water wasn’t going to heat up and wanting to get it out of the way and pulled on clean socks, brushed his teeth, layered up and left, clutching his mug.

 

“Almost late Mr. Novak.” Mr. Zach sniped at him, Cas nodded his head, pulling on his work vest.

“Sorry Mr. Zach.” He muttered, keeping his eyes down.

“And let’s see a bit more production today, eh?”

“Yes. Yes Mr. Zach.” Castiel sighed, shouldering through the door to the worksite.

His arms still ached from the day before, and the days before that. He wasn’t sure how long he could keep this up, but he had to. It was the only job he’d been able to find. Even though it wasn’t exactly recommended by the doctors. But what did he care. He’d already sold his soul to them, he couldn’t afford any more, so even if his new job did make him collapse, well, he would just die then. He sighed, pulling out some nails and getting down to get started.

With each pound he could feel the echo through his entire body, reverberating through his bones. Each inch the nails drove into the wood was like the pain that was shooting through him. His stomach growled angrily as the sun rose and he took deep breaths, trying to stifle it with air. Choke it down. Suffocate it. He didn’t need food.

The wood started to double again, way earlier in the day than it normally did. He felt vaguely worried but didn’t have the energy to actively be concerned. He focused hard, making sure he was slamming his hammer down in the right spot. He thought it almost funny. Drowning in medical bills, slowly starving to pay them off, dizzy and ending up with a broken thumb. Hilarious. He squinted at the wood. It had better not happen.

Just as his vision was definitely starting to blacken around the edges he heard a voice that pulled him out of his reverie of hammer slams.

“Is this where I’m supposed to put the delivery or….?”

The sun was shining just behind this person, lighting up the tips of their hair like fire, and making their skin glow. Castiel thought that vaguely unfair that this glowing clean person should find him squatting, sweaty, dirty, hungry and about to faint.

“What?” he muttered, pushing himself up.

A mistake, it seemed. The horizon dipped up around him, the walls churning in ways they shouldn’t and the edges of the room became black.

“Whoa, are you okay?” the man at the door said, stepping forward.

The light was too bright, the darks too black. Things got stripped down to harsh and cool, churning up within one another until they were just a mess of ink blobs. It was grotesque and Castiel felt acutely sick.

“Dude, sit down. Jesus.” The man grabbed his shoulders, pushing him down on a near tool box. “What’s wrong? Low blood sugar?” He laughed like it was a joke. Cas didn’t get it.

Slowly his vision came back and he felt relieved. He hadn’t actually passed out. He blinked at the man, green eyes and short hair coming into view. His nose was perfect. Cas licked his lips, taking a shuddering breath.

“What?”

“Man are you okay? Need me to take you to the hospital or something? Where’s Zach?”

Cas shook his head, “No doctors.” He held his head which had started pounding. “Just thirsty.” He glanced at his watch, “And um, Mr. Zach is on a lunch break.”

At the mention of food his stomach lurched into action and released a disgustingly audible declaration of emptiness.

The green eyed man laughed. “Looks like you need one. I was about to grab a bite myself, wanna join me? You still don’t look too hot.”

Castiel looked longingly out the door, his shoulders slumping and his hands starting to shake. He had to say no. “I… I can’t… I left my wallet, um…” His brain wasn't working fast enough.

“Don’t worry bout it, I got this. Come on, my treat.”

The man grabbed Cas by his arm, yanked him up and led him towards the door.

“Wait, let me leave a note for Mr. Zach.” Cas pulled away, taken aback by the mans forwardness. “And I need to lock up.”

The taller man rolled his eyes, “So responsible! By the way, I’m Dean.”

“Castiel.”

“Castiel? Really? Huh.”

“Really.”

Castiel scribbled a note for Mr. Zach and glanced back up at Dean, who was smirking at him coyly from the door.

“What?”

“Nothing. Nothing.” Dean put his hands up, turning back out and leading them to his car.

It was a sleek car, black and starkly clean. The leather seats smelled nice, as Castiel lowered himself into the passenger seat, stroking his thumb appreciatively over the upholstery.

“Nice vehicle.” He muttered, pulling on his seat belt slowly.

Dean sighed contentedly, patting the dashboard. “Yup, she’s a beauty. Got her from my dad. Runs like a babe.”

“And you use it to deliver goods?”

“Not normally. But I have plans later so I thought I’d take her on my route instead of the van, instead of going home to get her later. ‘Sides, I don’t drive her enough. Wheels like this have got to be loved.”

Castiel nodded thoughtfully. He didn’t know that. "I don't know much about cars" he admitted, watching Dean pull it out of the lot carefully.

“Eh, most people don’t. But if you ever need a mechanic I’m your man.”

There was something about serious manly Dean saying “I’m your man” that made Castiel’s heart pound slightly. He gulped, looking down at his hands carefully.

“Much appreciated.” He muttered, looking out the window.

He could feel Dean’s eyes on him while they idled at a stop light. Cas didn’t look over, resolutely staring at a small house on their right. The windows were all different sizes and their lawn decorations were all being held together with duct-tape. The light turned green and the car leaned forward, Dean’s gaze returning to the road. The absence the weight was almost palpable. Cas breathed deeply.

“So where do you want to go?”

Cas blinked, startled into meeting Dean’s green gaze.

“What?”

Dean laughed, cocking an eyebrow at Cas. “For food dude. Remember?”

_Anywhere._

“I don’t know. I’m not terribly familiar with restaurants.”

“Fair enough.” Dean pulled into the next turn, braking sharply. Cas gripped the door tightly, keeping his body from falling sideways into Dean’s.

Dean didn’t seem concerned about the sharp turn or Cas’s close proximity. He had one elbow propped in the window, tapping the door to the rock music that poured into the car softly. Castiel watched him park carefully, not looking away from those long eye lashes and soft stubble. Dean’s lips pursed thoughtfully as he concentrated on the neighboring cars.

They clambered out of the old car, Cas took extra care to not bump the door against the red jeep next to them. Things so loved shouldn’t be damaged. He was damaged. He wasn’t loved. It made sense.

“What’re we having then?” Cas asked, holding the door politely for Dean.

“I’m having pie. And a burger.”

“Pie? In the middle of the day?”

“God you sound like my brother. Listen, it’s not a friggin Jack Daniels, just some comfort food.”

Castiel laughed, a startled chortle that rumbled from a place he forgot existed. He looked shocked, staring down at his stomach and wondering where a laugh had managed to escape from.

“Two?” the man at the front counter asked, looking distractedly at some seating chart.

Dean grunted agreement, leaning against the wood and knocking it absently. Castiel stood stiffly behind him, watching his languid movements and wondering how someone came to acquire such easy grace and confidence. Dean was so sturdy.

While Cas tripped on the trashcan on their way to the table.

“You okay man? God are you sure I shouldn’t just take you to a doctor or something? You still look like shit.”

“Thanks.” Cas huffed, looking over the menu. His stomach was so tight with hunger it didn’t even have the audacity to growl.

“And again, my treat, so have at it. You look like you could use a meal.”

“… Thanks.”

Dean blinked, taken aback by the sudden naked tenderness in Cas’s voice.

“Don’t… uh, don’t mention it.”

The waitress showed up then and they got down to it.

 

Mr. Zach was purple. His eyes were bulging just slightly and his the fat under his chin was pinched against his collar in the most unflattering way.

Castiel stared unblinkingly back at Mr. Zach’s purple face, his jaw set and his fists bawled.

“You just LEFT?” Mr. Zach gasped through gritted teeth. “All my EQUITMENT? All my EFFECTS? And you thought you’d just LEAVE?”

“It was time for my lunch break.” Castiel said calmly, trying to hold down the panic. He needed this job. “Sir.”

“I don’t give a fuck if it was your barking lunch break! You can’t leave the job site unattended!”

“Listen, man, it’s my fault, I told him to come. He wasn’t lookin too hot and I just figured…”

Mr. Zach turned on Dean, drawing back his shoulders and starting to turn a brilliant shade of red. “Oh come off it, Winchester. I know you, you’ve been delivering for me for years. You’re unreliable, disrespectful and cocky as hell. Get the hell of my property and tell your manager I don’t want deliveries from you ever again.”

Dean scowled at him and grabbed Cas’s arm, dragging him along with him towards the door.

“Dean, what are you-”

“You’re coming with. You don’t need this dick head in your life.”

“But, no, Dean, you can’t just…” Cas jerked his arm out of Dean’s grasp. “I need this job. I… I need this. I can’t…” _I can’t live without it. I need the money._

Dean smiled sadly at him. “I got this. You don’t need this. I’ll help you find a job.”

Castiel stood there, almost literally at a crossroads. Who was this Dean Winchester? With his fancy shiny car, mysterious life, swagger, easy living, devil-may-care attitude? What did he know about pain and sickness and sweat? Did he know the smell of dying flesh?

Could he be trusted?

Dean stuck out a hand, staring intently into Cas’s eyes. Cas could hear them saying _take my hand. Come with me. I’ve got you._

Castiel sighed, looking down at his feet and then at Mr. Zach. “I’m sorry Mr. Zach. But… I quit.”

He took Dean’s hand, shook it once and then followed him out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel stood in his kitchen, having just been dropped off by Dean. 

            _“You live in this neighborhood?”_

_“Well, yes.”_

_“Dude, it’s kinda shady.”_

_“Well… yes.”_

            The room seemed dark and damp, next to Dean’s warm car, with its soft loved leather seats. The drip in the sink was agonizing, the whirr of the next apartments heater intrusive and maddening. Cas stood there, looking at his life and wondering what he was going to do next. No paycheck. He could beg Mr. Zach for his job back. For at least the last two days pay. He needed it. His meds were almost out and he had another round of doctor bills coming up. 

            He sank to his knees, his chest tightening and his head spinning. He was dying. Not from the sickness he’d battled for two years, but from life. He was slowly starving. Malnourished. Broken. Fragile.

            He envied Dean’s strong arms and full shoulders. Cas was scrawny, his limbs more bone than flesh. You could always see his ribs. His cheeks were sunken. He was wasted. 

            Castiel crawled into his bedroom, curling on the mattress he’d stolen from the dumpster last month. It still smelled vaguely like cat piss. He piled blankets around him, trying to ignore the springs poking into his back, the draft that crept in around his feet, the smell. He closed his eyes, willing his world to go black. To just be done. Just for now. He’d figure it out in the morning. 

            He needed sleep. 

            It wasn’t his alarm that woke him. It was a sharp, jarring pounding on his door, following by several jabs on his ringer. He didn’t even know that his doorbell worked. 

            He blearily sat up, pushing himself upward and grasping the wall when the world blacked for a second. Taking deep breaths he propelled himself down the hall and to the door. 

            “Hello…?” He mumbled, rubbing his eyes and opening the door. 

            “Did you even look? God man, you’re gonna get jacked.” Dean pushed his way past Cas, holding steaming coffee and bagels. “I brought food.” 

            Cast followed behind him, scowling at his back. “What?” 

            Dean laughed, “Did I wake you? Sorry, I don’t sleep much, I usually get my deliveries done early. Today’s my day off though! So I thought I’d uh…” he started to take in his surroundings. The old, duct-taped plush chair, the dripping sink, the rotted wallpaper. “yikes. How much does this place cost?” 

            Cas blushed, “It’s uh… well, it’s all I can afford so…” 

            Dean looked around a bit more, eyes fixing on the sink. “I can fix that.” 

            “I’ve tried, um, tightening the… metal part…” Cast trailed off as Dean started laughing. 

            “Well, excuse me, didn’t know you were an expert plumber, Captain Spock. Please, do tell me how you tightened the metal part.” 

            Cas smiled wryly at him. “Well it works well enough anyways. And Spock wasn’t the captain.”

            “Alright, whatever, well, here, here’s some coffee. I didn’t know what you liked. So I just got the special. Caramel vanilla late I think.”

            Castiel wrapped his long fingers around the cup, relishing the warmth. “Thank you.” 

            Dean considered him for a long moment, leaning against the dirty counter.

            “No worries man.” He sighed, looking down at his shoes then squinting back up at Cas. “Listen, I am sorry about yesterday. I’ll help you through this. It was my fault, though that fucker is a dick. But… I’ll find you a new job. I’ve already talked to my boss, he’s been looking for some part time help in the office. I know it’s not much but it could do until we can find something better.” 

            Working in an office? Somewhere quiet, warm, clean and not active? It sounded like heaven. 

            “That sounds amazing.” 

            Dean laughed, “good, I was afraid you were gonna tell me you were trying to go into construction as your career. Cuz, I have to say, you don’t look cut out for it.” 

            Cas shifted his hands over his arms, pulling down on his sweater sleeves. “I am a bit scrawny.” 

            Dean jabbed his arm jokingly, barely pressing, and smirked. “A bit?” 

“Okay, okay.” Cas held up his hands in defeat. 

Dean laughed and started rustling around the kitchen, cooking the bagels and whipping up some eggs to go on them. Cas knew he didn’t have eggs and wondered how much food Dean had brought. 

“You didn’t have to do all this.” He mumbled appreciatively, sipping his coffee. It was warm and sweet. So different from the bitter drip coffee he was used to chugging. 

“Yes. Yes I did. You seem like you could use some help and… well I didn’t exactly make your life easier yesterday so…” 

Cas reached out and caught Dean’s arm as he was scraping eggs onto two dingy plates. 

“Still, you didn’t have to and you did anyways. So thank you.” 

“Yeah, yeah, okay.” Dean blushed, digging through the sink for two forks and washing them off real quick. “Don’t get all mushy on me.” 

Cas smiled to himself and dug into the eggs and bagels with abandon. “Hmm.” He moaned through his full mouth. “This is perfect.” 

Dean laughed, “You did the same things yesterday at the diner. Do you treat every meal like it’s your last?” 

            Cas shrugged, embarrassed. Because, well, yes, yes he did. 

            They both sat, chewing in silence, Dean peering around the decrepit apartment with more scrutiny. Castiel, starting to feel embarrassed at the state of it, tried to change the subject.  

            “So you said you had a function yesterday? How did it go?” 

            “Fine.” Dean shrugged, “It was a… well don’t laugh, but I really love to cook. And sometimes some local people get together and we all… uh… cook together. Yeah.” He grunted in a very manly manner, hunching his shoulders and starting to shovel his food into his mouth. 

            Cas didn’t see why Dean would seem embarrassed about this. Cas had never been able to cook and was immensely impressed with anyone who could. He took another bite of the eggs and bagels, smiling with intense pleasure. “Well, this is very good.” 

            Dean smiled, his eyes squinting almost shut and his teeth showing. “Thanks man.” 

            They sat there eating their breakfast for a few more minutes, Castiel finishing way before Dean, and then did the dishes together. They moved with easy fluidity, their elbows occasionally bumping, but neither being too worried about the proximity. Once the dishes were gone Dean sat at the table again, easing into the place like it was his own. Cas wondered how he was so good at being comfortable wherever he was. Cas always felt like he was a blip in the air, taking up too much space, bumping into things and causing issues. He was nothing but a bother. 

            “So what’re you up to today?” Dean asked, strumming his fingers on the table in a rhythmic sort of way, making Castiel wonder what rock song he had stuck in his head. 

            “Well, nothing. I usually don’t do much on my days off.” _I can’t really afford to do anything, or expend the energy._

            “Cuz I got these tickets to this carnival.” Dean chortled, “Not usually my thing, but I won ‘em in a game of poker the other night and I don’t have anyone to go with. I asked my brother but he’s too busy with being engaged and school and shit. So…” he trailed off, squinting up at Cas, “whaddya think?” 

            “Of what?” Castiel said dumbly back, not picking up on Dean’s implications. He hadn’t ever been to the carnival. Did Dean need his opinion on something? 

            Dean laughed, “Of going with me man, come on.” 

            Cas’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh! Me? Oh. I… well… certainly. I’d enjoy that very much.” 

            Dean looked at him for a moment, “Do you always talk like that?” 

            “Like what?” 

            “Never mind. Come on, grab a coat, it’s opening soon. Let’s see if we can beat the lines.” 

            “Nice jacket Columbo.” Dean joked, pulling the car into the carnival lot. 

            Cas pulled the beige trench coat tighter around him. “I like this coat. It’s lasted me a long time. It’s sturdy.” _Been through a lot, a bit like me._

Dean locked the car and led Cas up to the gates. They presented their tickets, got their hands stamped and started weaving between the children and mothers. Castiel supposed they looked a bit odd, two grown men with no noticeable children, one in a leather jacket, the other in a knee length trench coat, skulking around the carnival. Dean looked totally at easy though. Smiling, with his hands deep in his pockets, he almost bounced as they walked about, looking at all the rides. 

            “So what do you wanna do?” Dean said, squinting at the price of one of the bigger rides. 

            Cas looked at the price too, sweat starting to trickle down his back. He didn’t know it cost money beyond just the entrance fee. “I don’t know… I uh… I’ve never done this before. We can just… look…” He trailed off, not sure how to tell Dean he couldn’t afford the rides. 

            Dean looked at him thoughtfully for a second. “Come on man, let’s do this one. My treat.” 

            Castiel sighed, realizing that Dean was figuring out how broke he was. He didn’t feel ashamed, the way he usually did. When people looked at him with pity, like he was lesser. Like he needed to be coddled. Dean just understood and didn’t mind.

            “Okay.” 

            They spent all day there. They went on almost every ride, except the tall one that dropped you. Dean said that was wrong. Not fun, just wrong. Castiel won them both a giant toy. Dean had a tiger and Cas had a bear. A big brown soft bear. Somewhere halfway through the day Cas forgot the rides cost money, that each toy they won with popped balloons was worth less than what Dean paid for them to play. He loosened up, laughing and smiling and screaming on the rides. They stuffed themselves on cheap carnival meat and elephant ears. Cas felt dizzy from the sugar and the exhilarating rides. He felt drunk on Dean’s constant proximity, the way he kept throwing his arm around Cas’s shoulders while they stumbled about, chuckling. 

            At the end of the day, when the children started thinning out, rubbing their eyes, a few of them being lifted to fathers shoulders, Dean and Cas made their way to one last ride.

            “I was saving this one for when the sun was going down. I love it at twilight.” 

            “Which one?” Cas had felt certain they’d gone to just about all the rides. 

            Dean didn’t say anything and led them to a ride tucked away in the corner. The ferris wheel. Castiel didn’t realize how he could have forgotten about it. It towered over most of the rides, blinking in the dusk with dazzling lights and laughing people. 

            They stood in the small line, pairs being shuffled in to be scooped up and away by the small carts. 

            “Can that hold both of us?” Cas whispered, hovering close to Dean’s elbow. 

            Dean laughed, not unkindly, and nodded. “God, you barely count as a second person.” 

            Cas pursed his lips, “I’m not that scrawny.” 

            Dean snorted, passing the last of their ride tickets to the bored employee. He led Cas to where the benches came up, holding his elbow steady as the slow moving chair came up behind them and scooped them up. Cas felt the ground disappear beneath his toes and his stomach clenched, his head feeling dizzy. This wasn’t like the other rides, where you were swung up and around and then back to the ground in a dazzling display of adrenaline. This was slow, thoughtful, beautiful and almost agonizing. He had far too much time to think about exactly how high he was off the ground. 

            Without thinking he grasped Dean’s jacket sleeve, his knuckles bony and turned white. 

            “You okay?” Dean said, turning to face Cas, jostling the cart. 

            “Yes. Yes I am. We’re just… This is high.” He gasped. He laughed nervously. “I’m being silly.” 

            “Not at all. This is usually the scariest ride for people. Just wait till we get to the top. The beauty outweighs the scary. I promise.” 

            _I promise._

            That stuck with Castiel and he ran it through his head a few more times. He liked the sound of Dean promising things. It was comforting. More comforting than anything had been in a while. 

             It was even more amazing when he was right. 

            Dean came and picked up Castiel the next day, six in the morning, sharp. Castiel sipped some cold coffee of his, already feeling spoiled on the previous day’s latte. Dean had insisted on picking him up when Cas had told him he had planned on walking. 

_“Dude, it’s like five miles.”_

_“The construction site was four. I don’t mind.”_

_“Why don’t you take a bus?”_

_“They don’t run in this area of town. I would have had to walk just as far to a bus station.”_

_“Well, you’re practically on the way. I’ll just pick you up. God.”_

            Castiel wasn’t sure he would ever get used to people doing favors for him. Just nice things, without expecting anything in return. His family had expected compliance, the hospitals had expected money. Every time he needed help everyone had turned him away when he couldn’t provide enough. He kept expecting Dean to ask him for something in return. He didn’t know what, but he just knew it was coming. There had to be a catch. 

            At the office Castiel fell into the rhythm of the work very easily. Mr. Singer, he insisted on being called Bob, ran a tight business. Cas could tell it seemed very organized to him, he delegated all the parcels and orders in his own way. Though from an outside view it was utter chaos. He had Castiel on filing duties. Cas was in charge of keeping track of who often ordered what so they could try and get on top of orders and get them set up even before the customers filed for orders. Happy customers. 

            The catch was that while the way things were organized had been working just fine for every day orders and deliveries, it made Castiel’s task almost impossible. He sat in a side room, down in the basement, with literally towers of boxes around. Slowly he smiled to himself. Towers of unorganized papers aside, this was a thousand times better than Mr. Zach and that blasted hammer. 

            He got started, one box at a time, quickly coming up with a way to organize orders by type and then object and then company. Most of the companies ordered the same type of thing and when they didn’t they did, they at least ordered similar enough things that Castiel could keep track. So when Mr. Singer, Bob, came down to check on him Cas had quite a bit of progress to show him. 

            Getting through the entire stack still took Castiel the better part of a week. Finally, when he finished, adding the finishing touches to his newly developed computer data-base, he stood back and looked at it. He felt useful. Accomplished. Proud. He hadn’t felt proud of something he’d done in years. All he was good for was breaking things. This was a thousand times more satisfying than actually building things at his construction jobs. He had assisted in the development of entire buildings, but still felt small and inadequate. 

            He felt a familiar sensation rising from his gut now that his drive had satiated. He bit his lip, waiting for the gnawing nausea to pass. For the dizziness to subside. He hadn’t been eating beyond what Dean shared with him at the office occasionally. Cas smiled, clutching the wall deliriously, remembering how excited Dean was about his cooking. He would burst in through the door, having just very audibly clambered down the steps. He would brandish his dish in Cas’s startled face, grinning from ear to ear. 

            “Check it out man! Totally just got this sauce right. Oh it’s perfect. You gotta try this.” 

            And Cas would, trying his best to not wolf it down. It was delicious. It all was. Anything Dean touched. Cas sank to the ground, pulling his bony knees to his chest. His head felt weird. Pounding. But far away too. His stomach hurt. His whole body hurt. He needed to go tell Bob, Mr. Singer… Bob… that he had finished. He had to move onto the next thing. They were going to start contacting the suppliers, getting orders organized and customers placated. 

            He rolled forward, on all fours, trying to push himself to his feet. The floor was churning and he closed his eyes, willing his vision to straighten. With one quick motion he forced himself to his feet, swayed once and crumpled. 

            Dean found him an hour later, sprawled face down on the floor, his left arm pinned under his body at an awkward angle and his butt in the air. His nose was slightly bloody and he had knocked over a box. Dean had dropped the plate he had been holding and had gathered Castiel quickly in his arms, flipping him over and gently shaking, trying to wake him. Cas remembered seeing Dean’s face, blurred through eyelashes and nose blood. He remember trying to be coherent enough to insist he was fine. He was fine. He was always fine. 

            Dean ignored his nonsensical mumblings and picked Castiel up effortlessly. 

            “Jesus…” he muttered, terrified by how light Cas was. He was so small. 

            Dean was coming into focus more clearly now, Cas’s head lolled against his leather jacket, his fingers finding purchase in Dean’s shirt. “Dean?” he mumbled, just audible over Dean’s hurried foosteps up the stairs. 

            “I’ve got you Cas. I’ve got you. Jesus. I’ve got you.” Cas faded out again as Dean burst into the upper area, calling for Bob. Mr. Singer. Bob.

            Anybody. 


	3. Chapter 3

Castiel woke to a painfully familiar beeping sound. He scrunched his nose, hating it. Wondering why he was hearing it again. He wondered for a moment if he had been dreaming. Was he still sick? Attached to wires and tubes being pumped full of healing poison? 

            No. He fought his eyelids open. He smelled some familiar cologne and leather that only existed recently. Dean was asleep next to Cas, his torso leaned over the side of the bed, his face pressed into his leather sleeves in an uncomfortable looking manner. Castiel had a moment to smile at the sight before he began to panic. He was in a hospital. Again. With no insurance. Again. Last time he had savings, he thought he could do it. Keep working. Maybe ask his family for help. He hadn’t counted on everyone leaving him. He thought maybe all his previous transgressions would be overlooked by his parents in light of sickness. He had thought wrong. He committed to treatments and burned through his savings so fast. So fucking fast. It was gone and suddenly he was in this place you don’t know exists until you’re there. The negative zone. He was just starting to climb out of the negative zone. He was starving to make his bills. He was past the point of fines and warnings of past due payments. He needed to pay or face consequences. 

            He squeezed his eyes shut, wondering what he could do. They couldn’t have gotten too much of his information could they? He had been unconscious. He didn’t carry his wallet around with him. The only information they had on him would have been what Dean told them. Did they keep a data base on people who didn’t pay quickly enough? Could he just leave without anyone noticing? He raised his right arm to rub his eyes and stopped. He only just noticed that his left arm was heavy and not moving the way it should. He looked down to see it casted in white plaster. He sighed, closing his eyes again. He was so fragile. Liable to snap at any second. He didn’t even want to think about the bill for that. 

            He tried to lift the arm, to see how badly it hurt. All he succeeded was shuffling too much and waking Dean. He blinked up, little lines creased into his face as he blearily looked at Cas. “Hey.” He mumbled, rubbing his eyes and shaking his head. “How you feeling?” 

            Cas chewed his lip for a second. “Fine. Um. What happened?” He vaguely remember Dean carrying him up the stairs, but nothing after that. 

            Dean scowled at him. “You fucking passed out. Jesus Cas. They said you’re severely malnourished. How does a grown man become malnourished? What have you been eating?” 

            Cas shrugged, looking away from Dean’s intense green eyes. 

            “Well, they said that they looked up your medical history, they had to before they could give you any pain meds for the broken wrist.” He gestured at the cast, “and they said you weren’t following your treatment plan very closely.”

            Castiel blushed. What had they told him? How could they have told Dean that? What happened to patient confidentiality? “How… What did they tell you?” 

            “I told them we were brothers. Didn’t even ask for my ID. But they told me about the sickness. And the treatment.” He paused, looking closely at Castiel, waiting for Cas to meet his gaze. “Damn. I’m so freakin sorry.” 

            Cas let his head drop to the side, tearing his eyes away from Dean’s. His face burned with shame, his eyes stung with bitterness. He started to sit up, trying to push his blankets aside, pulling roughly on the tubes hooked into his arms. 

            “Cas, what-”

            “I can’t stay here.” Castiel said roughly, pushing Dean aside and swinging his legs over the side. They looked so white, knobby, bared like this. He hated it. Hated them. Hated himself. “I can’t stay here.” He said again, pushing to his feet. The room dipped around him but he ignored it. He didn’t need to see to leave. But he did need to leave. 

            “Cas. Castiel.” Dean put his hands on Cas’s shoulders, holding him still effortlessly. Cas huffed in frustration, pushing ineffectively at Dean’s arms, then shoving at his chest. “Stop. You have to stay here.” 

            “I can’t!” Cas gasped, tears rolling down his face, he was desperate. He couldn’t do this again. Any more doctor bills and he would be dead. He couldn’t survive it. “I don’t have health insurance. I don’t have anything. Anyone. I can’t do this again. Please. I have to leave before they know who I am.” His head dropped against his chest, his arms wrapped around himself. “I can’t do this again.” 

            Dean sat down next to him, putting one arm easily around Cas’s small shoulders. “Cas. Jesus.” 

            This was it. Castiel knew this moment. It had happened so many times before. This was the moment when he was too much of a bother. To troublesome. Dean would leave. Just go. He didn’t need this shit. No one did. He was going to leave. Cas felt the knowledge sink into his gut, his eyes brimming with tears he refused to continue to let fall. His head roared as the blood dropped to his gut and his hands started to shake. He was going to be left behind again. 

            “Cas, stop worrying. I’ve got this. I’ve got you.” 

            _“I’ve got you Cas, I’ve got you.”_

            “What?” Cas looked up from his lap, blinking slowly at Dean. Dean had stood up, he had his hands on either side of Cas on the bed, his face right there. Inches from Cas’s. 

            “I’ve got you Cas. You just focus on getting better. And for god’s sake, eat something.” He shook his head, his fists balling in the covers on either side of Castiel. “How did this get this bad? I knew you were skinny… but… God where’s your family? Who checks up on you?” 

            Cas just blinked at him some more, confused. Were people supposed to check on him? He was alone. “I… No one. I’m alone.” Hadn’t he said that? Maybe Dean thought he was kidding. 

            “Well. Not anymore.” 

            Dean pressed his forehead to Cas’s, staring at him intensely. Then he tilted his chin forward and pressed his lips firmly against Castiel’s.  

            Cas’s mouth fell open in surprise, Dean’s lips warm and soft against his. The tip of Dean’s nose was cold, but the hand that came to the back of Cas’s head was warm. He tasted like whipped cream and cherries. Sweet. Cas closed his eyes, leaning into the kiss, raising his right hand to grasp the side of Dean’s face. Their mouths separated for a second, both of them gasping for air before coming together again. Castiel could feel something stirring deep inside him. He felt warm, he felt full and happy and light. Not light in the way he was used to feeling light. Light in the way that made him want to shine. 

            He didn’t realize he was crying until Dean pulled away, rubbing a thumb over his wet cheek. A sob hitched its way up Cas’s throat and he leaned his head forward against Dean’s neck. Dean wrapped his arms around Cas’s shoulders, pulling him tighter against him. Cas clutched Dean’s cotton shirt with his good hand, the zipper on Dean’s leather jacket pressing into his skin. He didn’t know why he was crying. He felt more whole than he had in a long time. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Whether he was happy. Whether he was devastated. It was just a kiss. How could a kiss affect him so? How desolate was his life? He had grown so used to quiet nights, lonely mornings, solitary days. How had he let himself get so alone? 

            “You’re not alone.” Dean whispered, rubbing his hands up and down Cas’s back, resting his chin on Cas’s head. “Don’t you ever say that.” 

            They sat like that for only a minute more, because it was then that someone noticed that Cas had unplugged himself and came in to check on him. 

            “Everything okay?” The man asked, eyeing the chords and tubes Cas had left lying on the bed. “You really shouldn’t do that.” He added gently, stepping forward to gather the tubes and ready them for reinsertion. 

            Cas pushed himself back onto the middle of the bed, away from Dean. He leaned against the pillows that were stacked against the wall. He held out his slightly bloodied right arm dutifully for the nurse to stick him again. 

            “Okay Mr. Novak. We went ahead and did some tests while you were asleep, with the go ahead of your brother here.” He nodded at Dean who smiled encouragingly at Cas. 

            “And?” 

            “And they were fine. No signs of your symptoms. Just extreme malnourishment and dehydration. Your iron levels were low and so was your calcium. The doctor will be in later to talk about this with you and work on some nutritional plans and maybe talk to you about psychological help.”

            “I don’t need that. But thank you.” Cas smiled gently. “I just need to eat more.” 

            The nurse smiled, nodding slowly. “Yes, well, let’s get some measurements in before the doctor comes. Breathe deep…” 

            They released Cas later in the day, after he refused to be admitted to any kind of long term care facility. After talking with a psychologist and being cleared of any eating disorder suspicions they didn’t have anything to keep him there for. Dean drove them to Cas’s apartment, neither of them talking the entire way. Cas was wrapped in an extra of Dean’s jackets and their hands had entwined at some point during the ride. Dean’s hands were warm but not sweaty. They enveloped Cas’s in a way that was entrancing to see. 

            When the pulled into the parking lot outside of his building they sat in the car for a long minute. 

            “When we get inside. I’ll make us dinner. And then you’re going to tell me what happened.” 

            Cas nodded without really understanding what Dean meant. He figured he couldn’t mean the fainting, Dean himself had been there for most of that. Castiel figured he meant how Cas had gotten to this state of living. How he had become alone. 

            But he wasn’t alone anymore.

            Dean made omelets. He ran down to the gas station just down the street and grabbed some basic fixings and spices. Cas marveled at the way he churned the eggs, handling the one pan Cas owned with easy skill. He had to keep moving the pan on the stove since it didn’t heat evenly. 

            Finally Dean laid out two steaming plates for them. Cas did notice there was a fair amount more on his plate than Deans. But he guessed that was fair. He dove in, admiring how balanced the spices were. How Dean had already noticed Cas liked things extra salty and as un-spicy as possible. 

            “So…” Dean finally said, taking another bite of his egg. “What exactly happened?” 

            Castiel swallowed his bite, pausing thoughtfully. “I’m assuming you mean the sickness. And my family. And… this.” He gestured to the apartment and himself. “Well. I don’t want you to think I’m being… ostentatious. I don’t usually talk about myself like this.” He took another bite of the eggs and then a sip of water. 

            “I’m twenty five. I first got sick around twenty. We didn’t realize for a while. Almost too long of a while. It was right in this time actually that my parents realized… uh…” Cas took another sip of his water. “Well, you obviously noticed that my persuasions lean in a rather unconventional manner. Apparently it’s rather conspicuous. They called me out on all the ways I went against the ‘Lords Plan’” he held up his good hand to make quotation gestures. “Apparently my sickness was God’s way of telling me to change my ways. I told them I couldn’t. It didn’t feel like something that had happened to me, just something that had always been there. I didn’t even begin knowing how to change it, or why I should.” He took another sip of water. “So they left. Telling me that if I found my way back to the light, or what not, I could be in their presence again. Otherwise they didn’t want to be in contact with someone who had been so blatantly admonished by the Lord.” 

            He paused, wondering if Dean had anything to say. He supposed it was a bit odd, a family who would abandon their son with organs that were shutting down. 

            “Freakin bible thumpers.” Was all Dean had to add. 

            “Eloquent.” Cas smiled into his fork. 

            “But, what was wrong? I mean, what was your disease?” 

            Cas tapped his fork against his plate thoughtfully, swallowing slowly. “I honestly don’t know if they know. It wasn’t anything anyone had seen before. I don’t remember the details of the medical jumble now, but my insides didn’t work right. My organs basically started shutting down. I was yellow, my hair was falling out, could barely breathe…” he remembered feeling trapped in his hospital bed, shaking hands grasping the oxygen mask for dear life. Dear fucking life. “I remember my family watching me disintegrate, convinced it was my guilt that was killing me.” He paused, blinking back to the apartment. “Well, after my family left it wasn’t as bad, nothing had been irreparably damaged. They had started some intensive treatment to keep my insides healthy, under my fathers supervision and continued it after they left. When I didn’t get better right away… I guess they just assumed I was gone for hell.” 

He shook his head. “Well, I had already begun treatment, had already signed on to pay for it. But now I was left with the bill and no insurance. So I finished treatment, various tests and a grueling treatment regime later I was in the clear. And I was sent packing into a world I knew very little about, with just okay health and no back up. I picked up jobs where I could and kept up with my bills at first. But I soon realized I was making the money of a person who could barely make it period, and I had hundreds of dollars of extra bills to pay on top. A car was out of the question. So was further health insurance. Or new clothing. Or proper housing. And soon, so was food. I couldn’t afford to be sent to court for running from the collection agencies and I didn’t qualify for bankruptcy. So I set up my bills and tried to start paying them off. I soon realized that it was going to take years. And things would catch up with me.” 

            He stopped, finishing his omelet. 

            Dean stared thoughtfully at his plate, tracing his fork over the floral patterns on it. Cas had picked up his four plates at a garage sale a year or so ago. Ten cents each. He loved them. 

            “Have you talked to them since?” 

            Cas shrugged. “One of my brothers, once. Gabe. He checked to make sure I was alive when I got checked out of the hospital.” 

            “Aren’t there like, programs and shit for people like you?” 

            Cas sighed. “Well, technically I come from a really wealthy family. So I didn’t qualify for most of them. And the ones I did qualify for hardly put a dent in the debts I had. Thousands and thousands of dollars. The only thing that could have made it better was having health insurance. And since I didn’t have a job, had a preexisting condition, and was disconnected from my family and had no way to just pay for one… That was out of the question. Everywhere I went everyone offered the most they could for free services, free clinics, that kind of thing. I worked the system for all it was worth. But it catches up. No matter what, it catches up.” 

            Dean dropped his head in his hands. “And on top of all that you were sick and alone. Jesus Cas.” 

            Castiel shrugged. “I made it. I’m still making it.”

            Dean slammed one fist down on the counter. “Passing out in Bob’s downstairs office? That’s making it? Fuck Cas. I don’t ever want to walk into a room and see you down like that again. Never.” 

            Cas blinked up at Dean, cocking his head slightly to one side. “Why do you care so much?” He finally said. Honestly curious. 

            Dean shook his head. “Because I do.”

            And that was that. 

             Dean stayed the rest of the evening helping fix things around the apartment. He didn’t offer for Castiel to come stay with him, for which Cas was grateful. That would have been crossing a line in the charity scheme that he couldn’t stomach. He could admit he needed help. But charity? 

            As they were just about to say goodbye, Cas pulled Dean in close for a hug, pressing his face against Dean’s chest. “I can pay you back for today’s bill.” 

            “Eh, don’t worry about it. I’m an easy liver. I don’t make a fortune, but I don’t spend a lot. I always have stuff left over. My car and my food, that’s all a man needs.” He smiled, patting Cas’s back. 

            “Still. It may not be today. Or tomorrow. Or a year from now. But I will pay you back.”

            “Well, I’ll be around.” 

            “Good.” 


	4. Chapter 4

            Doing paperwork at Bob’s with just the one hand was harder than Cas expected it to be. It was frustrating when he couldn’t stack things or shuffle them with his one hands. He had to tediously move stacks small chunks at a time, pushing with his hip or the elbow of his casted arm to put things away. He felt slow and stupid and couldn’t wait to get the cast taken off. He worried about the point when this would happen though, trying to shuffle bills around so he could pay for it. Bob paid a bit more than Mr. Zach did, but Cas didn’t work near as many hours. 

            And he promised himself he didn’t want to borrow any more money from Dean. 

            Dean continued to float in and out of Cas’s bubble. He mostly brought food, insisting that he wasn’t giving it to Cas, he just needed someone to taste test…..  everything. Cas didn’t fight it, knowing he needed it and accepting the loop hole in his no-charity plans. 

            They didn’t talk about the kiss, in so many words. They did spend most of their extra time together though. Late nights at Castiel’s apartment, Dean fixing this or that while Cas watched whatever was on the stove. 

            _“Should it be bubbling like this?”_

_“Yeah, just keep stirring it. Will you turn on the water for a sec?”_

_“Sure.”_

             After dinner they’d sit around and talk, either curled up on Cas’s stinky bed or with Dean pacing animatedly, talking with his hands while Castiel sipped hot drinks in his chair. Dean told him stories of his household, his brother, his father. He said his mother had died when he was very young, a house fire, but he barely remembered it. Sammy, his little brother, was just a baby. But he was fine, Dean looked after him. Cas loved Dean’s face when he talked about this Sammy. He was so proud, he practically glowed. While Dean was happy doing his deliveries and cooking, Sam was going to prestigious schools and making a name for himself. 

            When Dean prodded Cas for information about his life Cas couldn’t help being cryptic and unyielding. He didn’t want to talk about his cold house, with its big drafty windows, endless dead gardens, the stairs that echoed. He hated it there. The drafters used to give him nightmares when he was little, he’d wake up screaming, convinced they were the bones of a giant animal. It didn’t make sense to anyone but him, and it frustrated his family, until they would just ignore him and let him scream himself hoarse. 

            He didn’t want to tell Dean about these things. 

            When it came time for Castiel’s cast to come off he felt trapped. He still didn’t have health insurance and he didn’t think he could face however many hundreds it would be to go in to the doctor. He contemplated trying to pry it off himself but he wasn’t sure he could manage it without taking off his arm. He could ask Dean, but would he just insist on taking Cas to the doctor? 

            “Dean…” Cas approached the topic one night while they were eating some sort of pot pie. 

            “Hmm?”

            “Do you know anything about removing casts?” 

            Dean paused, a slow grin spreading on his face. “I think I can figure something out.” 

            He went outside to get his tool kit and Cas cleared off the counter, unsure of how much space they’d need. How thick were these things?

            Dean came back in with an alarming and impressive array of knives and saws. He had an almost maniacal gleam to his eye and Cas had to smile. “You seem way too excited about this.” 

            “Well, how often do you get to saw off someone’s arm? I mean cast?” Dean winked at him. 

            “Ha ha.” Cas said dryly, laying his left arm out on the table. 

            Dean picked through his selection, settling on a smaller serrated blade. He started away at the cast, trying to keep it level with Cas’s arm so he wouldn’t accidentally poke through and cut Cas. To get the right leverage he ended up very much so in Castiel’s space, his back practically pressed to Cas’s chest as he methodically sawed away. 

            Ten minutes passed with very little noticeable effect. Dean was trying to be careful, but in turn wasn’t making much progress. After another fifteen minutes he had a good crack started but still not much had been achieved. The dust being filed up finally made Dean sneeze, he flinched right into Cas’s shoulder, knocking them both off balance. The knife fell out of Dean’s hand onto the counter and they both toppled. Dean would have stayed up, but unsteady Castiel tried to take hold of his arm as he fell, pulling him down on top of him. They ended up in a tangled heap of cast filings and limbs, laughing their asses off. 

            “I don’t think this is working.” Cas gasped, trying to push the shaking Dean off of him. 

            Dean was practically crying he was laughing so hard. “I can’t believe that just happened.” He wheezed. “Yeah. No shit Sherlock. Let’s just Google.” 

            Five minutes later, after consulting Wiki-How, they had Cas’s arm soaking in a bowl of water and vinegar, letting the cast dissolve on its own. 

            Cad didn’t tell Dean that when his next round of doctor bills came, the thing he decided to cut this time was his medication. He didn’t need it, he was sure. 

            Dean introduced Sam to Cas a few weeks after the hospital adventure. They all went to dinner at a local bar, somewhere Dean and Sam seemed at home. They knew all the waitresses names and even a few of the customers. Cas ordered water and Dean ordered them both beer, winking at Cas. Castiel rolled his eyes, slumping in their booth. 

            “You really don’t have to do that Dean, I can just have water.” He said, quietly, while Sam chatted with the waitress. 

            Dean squeezed Cas’s leg, “I know, but I want to.” He winked again, “I’ve never seen you drunk.” 

            Sam turned back to them. “Man, it’s been too long. What’s been going on?” 

            Dean chuckled, easily, taking a long draft of his amber drink. “Not much. I perfected this steak seasoning the other day. You have got to try this, it’s… it’s perfection.”

            Cas loved the way Dean talked with his hands. He would drink, holding the glass from the top, holding it almost awkwardly to his mouth. With his other hand he made quick, firm gestures that punctuated his words. It was mindless and beautiful. 

            “And you Castiel?” 

            Cas blinked at Sam, lost for a second. “What?” 

            Sam laughed, a little uneasily. “What do you do?” 

            “I work at Bobs.” 

            “Oh! … Cool.” 

            “With Dean.” 

            “Yeah, yeah, I uh… I figured.” 

            “Except I don’t deliver.” 

            Sam nodded again, taking a long pull of his drink, his eye brows a bit raised. Dean rolled his eyes at him, knocking the table absently, almost frustrated.

            “Did I say something wrong?” Cas asked, looking between the two. He was so used to just talking with Dean, he almost didn’t remember polite conversational skills. 

            “No dude, you’re fine.” Dean patted his back. 

            “Yeah. So Dean, get this…” 

            The night continued with easy banter between the brothers, interjected with spurts of almost-mocking conversation between Sam and Cas. Castiel tried his best to not be so weird, but he wasn’t even sure how to begin going about doing that. 

            As the time ticked lower and the patrons started filing out, Cas felt himself tiring. He didn’t usually stay up late, which sounded childish, but was true. He liked sleeping, nothing hurt while he slept, and nothing ate away at him. Worry, hunger, life. He started to slump against Dean, his head making its way to Dean’s shoulder in a permanent manner. The sounds of clinks and murmurs swirled around him, filling and slowing until it was white noise, until it was nothing. 

            “Cas, Cas buddy, get up. God, you’re like a baby in a trench-coat. Come on.” 

            “hrrrmpfhgh.” 

            “Classy.” 

            Dean pulled Cas forcefully upwards. Castiel slumped towards Dean’s body unthinkingly, leaning against him and drooping his arms around Dean’s chest and hips. 

            “God, is it past your bed time or something? Who falls asleep in a bar?” 

            Cas just nodded. 

            “Well, it was nice to meet you Castiel.” A hand waved into Cas’s vision. It was long and lanky and looked distinctly unused. Dean’s hands were scarred, chiseled and worn. Cas shook the hand anyways, nodding in the direction of the hands probably owner and proceeded to follow Dean out to the Impala. 

            “Your baby.” He cooed, slumping into the front seat. Dean clambered in, starting the ignition. As strong guitar riffs streamed out of the stereo Cas shamelessly draped his head against Dean’s thigh, pillowing his face there and drifting off again. 

            He woke up in soft, clean smelling sheets. That jerked him awake almost instantly. His sheets never smelled clean. They always were, but his mattress smells leaked through without fail. Why was he so warm? And was that bacon? 

            He rolled onto his side, squinting around a blue, brightly lit room. The room was mostly empty, meticulously taken care of, clean, but still lived in. He found himself intrigued and loving the mash ups of boy and man in the room. He was sleeping on a Batman pillow case, but next to his face on the night stand was a skin mag and a gun holster. There were a large collage of posters on the far wall, with everything from Metallica to Stark Trek. And (again) Batman. 

            Cas smiled, burrowing deeper into the blankets. He knew whose room he was in. It struck him suddenly as odd that he hadn’t been here before. But Dean was a secretly private person. Cas had noticed over the weeks that it was strikingly out of character for Dean to do what he’d done for Cas. He wanted to ask why, but he was afraid for calling attention to it. He wasn’t sure where this fear originated from. He didn’t want to try and fix what wasn’t broken, but it was more than that. It wasn’t even that he thought something needed fixing. It was mostly that he wasn’t that special, and he couldn’t fathom why someone like Dean would go out of his way like that for Cas. He pressed his face against the Batman pillow, inhaling the sweet smell of Dean’s shampoo and skin. He always smelled sweet. Maybe he ate so much pie he secreted it. 

            Cas stretched, pointing his toes and tucking his arms under the pillow. He felt rested and should probably get up, but he didn’t want to. But the smell of bacon began to overpower the room, making his stomach growl. He loved that when he was with Dean his stomach would growl and then he could do something about it. 

            He swung his legs out from the blankets, goose-bumps spreading instantly. He shivered, wondering where his pants were and grateful he was wearing not-atrocious underwear. He still had his t-shirt on and his trench-coat was draped over a chair on the other side of the room. He rubbed his arms, deciding to just take a blanket with him. 

            Wrapped snugly he made his way down the hall, following the sound of clinking dishes, sizzling and quiet humming. The apartment wasn’t huge, though it was obviously bigger than Cas’s two room hovel. The kitchen was huge though and therefore easy to find. He stood in the doorway, watching Dean move about. He was focused and intense, moving with small quick motions. Castiel watched as he cracked a few more eggs over the stove, stirring them into the mixture and flicking the pan easily. 

            “Hey.” 

            Dean stopped what he was doing, turning to wink at Cas and going back to the eggs. “Mornin sunshine.” 

            Cas made his way to the high counter, pulling himself up onto one of the bar stools. He pulled the blanket tighter around him, plopping his head down on the counter and continued to watch Dean cook. They didn’t talk, Dean just focused on all the multiple dishes. It was a feast. He was making omelets, chocolate chip pancakes, bacon, cheese and egg English muffins sandwiches. There was a ding and toast also popped up. 

            “Are we having company?” 

            “Nah, I’m just hungry.” Dean smirked starting to dish up the food. He pulled up another stool on the other side of the counter digging in. Cas took one bite out of everything, going around in circles around his plate, not wanting it to ever end. 

            “Do you work today?” 

            “No, you?” 

            “Nope.” 

            Dean nodded, “Wanna go to the beach?” 

            Castiel smiled, slowly and more sincerely than he had in a long time. He felt it light up his face, his eyes squinting, teeth showing, nose scrunched. “Yes. I would love that very much.” 

            The beach was a few hours away. They got started shortly after breakfast. Cas borrowed a clean shirt from Dean. It was way too big for him, it hung off his shoulders, a graphic design from a band Cas hadn’t heard of donning the front. He curled up in the Impala’s front seat, taking off his shoes and tucking his feet under him. He sat more in the middle, not buckling. Dean got in and casually put his arm around Cas’s shoulders, pulling him up close against him. Cas smiled, propping his head comfortably against Dean’s shoulders. They still hadn’t talked about the kiss, or done anything like that again. But this seemed blatantly affectionate. It made his heart pound in a good, oddly slow and happy way. He felt almost woozy with contentment. He could stay with Dean in his car forever, curled up like this, warm, full, healthy, nodding contentedly to Dean’s favorite cassette. After the first hour of silence they started talking about things. Things they hadn’t talked about before. Life things. Family things. Favorite things. 

            _“I just can’t decide. I don’t… I don’t know.”_

_“Come on Dean, everyone has one.”_

_“It doesn’t seem right to pick a favorite.”_

_“Well I love strawberry pie.”_

_“I just love them all.”_

_“Sam has always known, has always been okay with it. But my dad…”_

_“Dads…”_

_“They’re a major hit or miss.”_

_“Once this kid pushed me down a hill and I broke my ankle. My older brother hunted him down and beat him up.”_

_“I did that to some shit that picked on Sammy when he was in fourth grade.”_

_“I doubt you put him in the hospital.”_

_“Shit, your family sounds crazy.”_

_“They’re…. intense.”_

When they finally got there it was midday, the sun was high, the sky painfully blue. It was still on the colder side of the seasons, so the beach was wide and deserted. The tide was out, long logs of driftwood littered the beach and a thick bed of seaweed covered the half closest to the water. Cas hooked his arm with Dean’s and they walked along the top slowly stepping over barnacled rocks and dead crabs. It wasn’t a picture perfect moonlight walking with cascading waves and romantic seagulls, but it fit them and it was beautiful. 

            “It’s cold.” Castiel said, shuffling his coat tighter around him. 

            “Hmm.” 

            “I miss my family.” 

            He hadn’t meant to say it. He hadn’t even been thinking it. They’d never gone to the beach as a family, never done anything like this. There was no reason for them to suddenly pop into his thoughts like this. But suddenly he just missed his brothers. He wished his mother had been around more, wished his father hadn’t hated all of them so much. He wished his brothers had forgiven him, accepted him. He wished he didn’t feel so alone, all the time. 

            Again, he didn’t realize he was crying until Dean was holding his face. He looked Castiel right in the eyes, his green gaze not wavering. Piercing. Cas didn’t know anyone could really _look_ at someone like that. He stopped crying. Grabbed Dean’s jacket and pulled him closer. 

            “I’m not alone anymore.” He whispered, pushing his lips against Deans. 

            “Never.” Dean mumbled against him, pulling Cas’s face tightly against his. “Never.” 

            Cas pushed them both to the ground, slightly damp sand soaking into his knees as they fumbled with their jackets and shirts, trying desperately to touch skin. Cas had his hands entangled in Dean’s button down shirt, palms pressed flatly to his hot skin. He was so warm. Cas shoved him down to the ground, crawling and sitting on his hips comfortably, pinning Dean to the ground. Dean smiled against his lips, biting Cas’s bottom lip playfully. Dean grabbed Castiel’s hips, holding him in place, hips pressed almost painfully together, closer than close. Cas’s heart was pounding, his breath short. He kept his forehead pressed to Dean’s, their oxygen and breath mixing, colliding, entwining. He ground his crotch into Deans, the friction making his vision go white. Dean picked him off him and flipped them, grounding Castiel into the sand. He pulled up Cas’s shirt, sucking kisses up his torso, making Cas squirm on top of his trench-coat. Dean scraped his fingers down Cas’s torso, fingers gripping his hips tightly, pinning him in place. Cas reached up for Dean’s shirt, pushing it up and baring Dean’s stomach. He had a small trail of hair that led below his belt, Cas scraped at the button, fumbling to undo it in his awkward position. Dean bent down to capture Cas’s lips again, his fingers simultaneously starting to push Cas’s jeans down over his hips. 

            They were then jolted out of their tight lipped, gasping trance by the chirping sounds of laughter. Some group was making their way down from the parking lot, chatting and calling and shoving. Boisterous. Interrupting. Dean laughed, pressing his forehead against Cas’s for one last second, pressing an almost chaste kiss to his lips before pushing himself to his feet and re-buttoning his pants. Cas sighed, lingering on the sand for a moment more, dejected. With a sigh he took Dean’s outstretched hand and pulled himself to his feet, hiking his pants back up. Innocently holding hands they made their way further down the beach in the opposite direction of the party (sounded like young college kids), rolling their pants up and resolving to wade in the mid-day warmed water. 

            Castiel kept up a wind-swept blush, continuously taken aback by what they’d been caught up in the moment by. They had been about to do some very un-beach-appropriate things in the middle of the day on a very public beach. He couldn’t believe he’d let things get so out of control. On the other hand it felt like years since he’d felt anything that intense. His breath still felt short, the crotch of his pants too tight, his heart was still thudding insistently. It felt… good. Amazing. He squeezed Dean’s hand, pulling him up onto some driftwood that stretched over the incoming waves. They tide was slowly making its way in, churning and creeping forward. They sat on the fallen tree, legs dangling over the water. 

            “The clouds are so… present.” Cas said, picking absently at a smooth part of the trunk. 

            “What?” 

            “I mean, look. Look at the sky. It doesn’t feel like it should exist. We take it for granted, the magic of it.” Cas held up his hands, splaying them against the blue sky, the light grey clouds, the tiny sun. “Imagine someone who’s never seen it before. How amazing it must look. It’s _blue!_ It’s so… there.” 

            Cas looked over, letting his hands back down into his lap, to find Dean staring not at the sky but at Castiel. He reached over, running his thumb over the side of Cas’s face and kissed him softly. 

            “It’s beautiful.”

            _“What exactly was your sickness Cas?”_

_“… I honestly don’t know. No one did. Everything was breaking down.”_

_“All of a sudden?”_

_“All of a sudden.”_

            Dean drove them back to Cas’s apartment, they listened to rock loudly, the windows rolled down even though it was cold. Castiel curled up next to Dean, tucking Dean’s jacket around him and smiling as Dean gripped him against his side. He belonged. 


	5. Chapter 5

When he let them into his apartment Dean was midway through telling Cas about an exciting trip Dean and Sam had taken when they were young, he was just detailing the camping site they’d accidentally set on fire when Cas stopped short, causing Dean to run into him. 

            “Jesus Cas, what-?” 

            “Michael.” 

            Cas kept his hand gripped tightly on the doorknob, his knuckles turning white, his arms beginning to shake. 

            “Castiel.” 

            “What’re you doing there?” 

            Michael stood languidly up from Cas’s armchair, taking care to dust his pristine suit pants off and looking disdainfully at what his behind had been touching. “It’s nice to see you too, brother.” 

            Cas glowered at him, letting his hand drop to let Dean in. Dean stepped forward powerfully into the room, standing next to Cas in a defiant sort of way. Michael didn’t even spare him a glance. 

            “What do you want Michael? You haven’t spoken to me in almost five years. You can’t have just come by for casualties.” 

            Michael nodded slowly, walking over to the kitchen, picking up a glass and helping himself to the newly-non-leaky tap. He took a long sip of the water, starting thoughtfully down the water stained sink. “It’s father.” 

            A pang went through Castiel. Instant conflictions shot through him as he charged through all the options and how you should react. And how he would react. 

            “He’s missing.” 

            Somehow relieving. 

            “Where is he?” Dean spoke up, stepping around Cas to walk towards Michael. Michael finally looked at him, blinking as if for all the world he honestly hadn’t noticed him before. 

            “Who’s this then? You’re new sodomite indulgence?” 

            Cas bit his tongue, literally, his fists clenching slowly. 

            “This is Dean. Dean, my brother Michael.” 

            Dean grunted at him, holding out a hand. Michael looked at it and ostentatiously turned his back, refilling his cup. He looked more haggard than Cas remembered. His dark brown hair, similar to Cas’s, was almost over grown. His cheeks had the faintest echoes of stubble and his shirt even had a few creases. He must have been desperate, not only was he talking to Cas he was stooping to drink out of a tap.   

            While Dean’s question had been ill timed, it did have pertinence. Obviously the definition of missing could not be questioned, but there was no reason Castiel should have anything to do with it.

            “Michael, Dad hasn’t talked to me in years. Why are you here?”

            “I thought… I thought you’d want to know.”

            Cas felt his blood boil, his face flush and his hands came down hard on the counter.

            “Why would I care about that pompous… assbutt? He didn’t care about me, he never even checked up to make sure I survived treatment. He left me to the dogs, abandoned me. I don’t give a fuck if he’s missing. He can stay missing. It literally doesn’t make a difference to me.”

            “Gabriel says he thought you’d know something.”

            “Gabriel is full of it. He always has been, we all know that.”

            Michael considered this. “You haven’t heard anything from him then?”

            “No Michael.”

            Dean cut in here, “What the hell happened? How’d he go missing?”

            Cas tried to wave him quiet, “Dean, it doesn’t…”

            “It does matter, this is your family Cas, we should at least know what happened.”

            Michael looked between the two, again looking taken aback that Dean was even present. “We… We made a few bad investments. Owed money to the wrong people. Eventually they came, demanding their dues. We couldn’t deliver. Father ran.”

            Cas rolled his eyes, leaning his hip against the counter, grabbing a glass of water of his own. “Figures. Who?”

            “A group of loan sharks. It was foolish of Father to borrow money from them. I tried to warn him, but you know how he gets about his sells. They usually actually work, but lately… no one is quite as believing as they once were.”

            “No one buyin the gospel, eh?” Dean snorted, leaning next to Cas.

            Michael looked disdainfully at him. “Hmm. It would seem.”

            “Well, I can’t help you Michael, I am sorry.” Cas held his hands out, palms forward, shrugging. “If I hear anything I’ll let you know. Oh wait. Don’t even have your phone number. No, no, don’t bother, I can look up the family in the phone book.”

            “You won’t find us that way.” Michael said quietly.

            “Taken yourself out? What, the lowly commoners bothering you too much?”

            “Our phone got turned off. The family business is dead, our family is dead. We’re not even sure how we’re going to make it through the month.”

            Castiel wished he felt bad. He wished he had a pang in his gut that reminded him that this was his _family_ that was in need. His brothers, his one sister, his mother. His absent father. But he remembered the years of lonely hospital rooms. Years. Fucking years he spent. By himself, terrified, not sure if he would live through the next week. Not sure if this anesthetic induced slumber would be his last moment. Not sure if he would be able to leave the hospitals. And when he did the years he spent struggling to eat, to sleep, to function were burning brightly in his mind. He was still in them. Dean, this practical stranger, cared more about Cas and his health than this pompous ass in front of him ever did. Cared more than the broke and torn down man who was on the run.

            Cas sighed, closing his eyes, slumping his shoulders forward. “Michael, why are you really here? There’s no way you came all the way here just on a tip off from Gabe.”

            Michael shifted uncomfortably for a moment then plunged his hand into his expensive pocket and pulled out an envelope. It has been opened and on the front of it in neat, expertly slanted and flared writing, it read ‘Castiel’.

            “It’s from father. It was all he left before he disappeared. We… I opened.” Michael shrugged, trying to look apologetic.

            “That’s a federal offense.” Dean piped up, snarky, from the counter. Michael flicked his gaze at him and then back to Cas.

            Cas took the envelope and thumbed it open, letting the beautiful stationary into his hands.

           

‘Dear Castiel,

            Have faith.

            -Father’

           

            Cas flipped the paper over, sure there must be more.

            “That’s all it says. Have faith.” Michael stepped towards Castiel, Cas looked up from the paper, meeting his brothers intense blue eyes. “Do you know what he means Castiel? Any idea?”

            Cas looked back at the paper, wracking his brains for some meaning behind the words.

            His mother had always been the religious one. Yes, they were all ‘religious’, but she truly believed. She organized them for church every Sunday, made them wear their best, comb their hair. She slapped their wrists when they cursed, told them to respect and fear and love the Lord. Their Savior. His father loved her, more than God, more than them. He helped her fix up the local church, turned it into a thriving community. With his natural leadership, they were the most well-known powerful family in the whole state in terms of religion. It was why he had a hard time finding food banks, he’d volunteered at most of them during his life and couldn’t stomach meeting the people he’d used to work with like this. Thrown out.

            There was no reason his father should be telling him to have faith. Except as a last cry against Castiel’s transgressions against the heteronormative lifestyle. Was this just a melodramatic last cry against gay people?

            He shook his head at Michael, handing him back the envelope. “I don’t know. I’m sorry Michael.”

            Michael took the envelope, looking more defeated than Cas had ever seen him.

            “I thought… well… Okay. We’ll figure it out then. Thank you Castiel. It was… nice seeing you again.”

            “Likewise. Now please, I’d like to have my house again.”

            Michael nodded slowly, placing his glass carefully in the sink and making his way past them and to the door. “Then I shall leave you and your… house to it. Farewell brother.”

            The door shut.

            “Farewell.” Dean sneered. “Who says that? Jesus Cas, you’re better off without those pompous douche bags.”

            Cas nodded, picking up Michaels glass and washing it, replacing it on the shelf.

            “Have faith.” He muttered, turning back to Dean. “Wonder what it could mean.”

            Dean shrugged, “I dunno man, not exactly the religious sort.”

            Cas smirked, leaning back into Dean’s arms, resting his head back onto Dean’s shoulder. “I noticed.”

           

            The next morning while Cas was taking a quick shower, shaking from the cold, fumbling for the last drops of his shampoo, he noticed small dark hairs littering his shower floor. He pushed them down the drain with his toe, hands trembling from something other than the cold.

            “Nothing’s wrong.” He told no one. Nothing was wrong.

 

           

            Cas was just finishing up calling the last of the customers of the day, he was on the phone with a local grocer when Dean showed up in his doorway. Dean leaned against the frame, crossing his arms and smiling contentedly at Castiel. Cas smiled back at him, finishing up with the man on the phone and hanging up.

            “How can I help you?” Cas asked, shuffling some paperwork away.

            “You’re beautiful.”

            Cas blinked at Dean, looking up from a rather awkward angle, confused. “What?”

            “Just thought you should know.” Dean winked and left.

           

 

            Cas was walking home from the store, a bag of necessities gripped tight in his hand, his now empty walled folded up in his other hand. He kept his head down, trudging forward with determined un-importance. He knew he lived in a dangerous neighborhood. He had seen the drug deals, the bloody-eyed men who crowded together when he walked by. The smell of burning spoons and sick cough of weed. He just tried to be invisible.

            Apparently tonight that wasn’t enough.

            “Hey,” a taller man with shorn hair grabbed Cas’s sleeve, yanking him to a stop. Cas stumbled just slightly, barely holding onto his bag. He needed these groceries. Don’t drop them.

            “Wha-?” He gasped, looking at the huge man.

            “Hey.” Was all he said in return. Another man, about the same height as Cas with ghostly pale skin and acid yellow eyes appeared at the first mans elbow.

            “Hey.”

            “I… I don’t have any money. What do you want?” Cas tried to jerk his elbow from the tall mans grip.

            “We don’t want _you’re_ fuckin money.” The second man drawled. “but I hear you got a daddy that owes some people some money.”

            Cas started shaking. Two more men showed up, now they were all around him. He felt tiny. “I don’t… I don’t know anything about it, I haven’t seen him in years.”

            “We get our money. We always get our money.” The pale man said, stepping into Cas’s face and grabbing a fist full of Cas’s shirt. He spat in Cas’s face. The spit landed on his check, slowly dripping down his face and onto his jacket. Cas trembled.

            It started to rain.

            “So tell him, that we know where his family is, and we know how to do things quietly.” He pulled Cas close, almost whispering in his ear, “we know how to do things in the dark, where nobody sees.”

            He shoved Cas down onto the ground, kicking him once. Twice. Three times.

            The dirt was turning to mud as Castiel’s face was ground down. It swirled with his hair, mashing up into his mouth. He coughed, wheezed against it, water droplets spraying. He tried to roll over, to protect his sides but he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t fucking breathe.

            “Tell him, he fucked with the wrong people.”

           

            Castiel pushed himself up after a little bit. His shirt was soaked. And they had taken his groceries. Who the fuck stole groceries. He started hobbling down the street, clutching his side, clinging to walls and trying not to attract any stares. The last thing he needed was more attention.

            He made it to his apartment, wishing he had a phone. He wanted Dean.

            He wanted Dean.

            It was such a small admission. Innocent to anyone else he supposed, simple enough for the world at large. But to him it was of the deepest importance. He wanted Dean. He wanted him here, with Castiel. He wanted his warm body, his green eyes, his easy smile, his comfort. He wanted his spirit, he wanted his steadiness. He wanted Dean.

            Cas closed his eyes, sinking into his chair, wanting some hot water but wanting to never get up again more. How could he have let this happen. Deep down he knew why he had gotten sick, why his family had left him, why nothing in his world had gone right. He just didn’t know how to fix it. And this, this final admission of wanting was like crossing a line. Going through a door. Jumping off a fucking cliff.

            “I’m not ready for this.” He gasped, curling up, ignoring the pain in his ribs and fending off tears. He was so sick of crying. He didn’t need the emotions, the turmoil. He was stronger than this. He was Castiel. He didn’t need any of it. He sat up, the sharp stab in his side just a faint echo. He walked calmly to his room. He laid down. Again his best solution for the moment was sleep. He’d figure it out in the morning. He needed sleep. 


	6. Chapter 6

Castiel was carrying a box of files across the office, his breathes coming in little gasps. It wasn’t a big box, but it felt like a water logged body that was slowly pulling him down. A morbid allusion, he realized, but accurate. He could hear one of the other delivery boys in the next room, talking to the book keeper and driving hours and mileage. Adam. Castiel felt his knees start to buckle, sweat on his forehead. His lungs didn’t feel right. Adam was starting to raise his voice, insisting he was owed more than what his pay check stated. Castiel let the box fall, clutching his chest. He started to cough. He couldn’t stop. Hacking.

            “What is that?”

            Blood. He could see blood. He had to move before someone noticed him. He pushed himself up, abandoning the box and wiping up the blood on the floor. He propelled himself forward to his staircase, letting gravity do most of the work. He lay on the stair, chest heaving, stifling his coughs with his sleeve. He could hear the book keeper and Adam in the hall, standing over the box and wondering who left it there. They quickly grew bored, going back into the office to continue to argue. Castiel stayed on the stair for a few more minutes, trying to regain his breath.

            He looked down at his blood stained hands. “Son of a bitch.” He muttered. “Damn.” He slammed his fist against the wall. “God damn it!”

 

            Castiel wasn’t sure why he hadn’t seen it coming. After Michaels visit he supposed it made sense Gabriel would make a trip as well. He lounged against the wall when Cas came in, setting his bag on the ground and sighing. He had a leisure smirk on his face, his hair disheveled and his clothing rumpled. But the look suited him. He was the opposite of everything Michael was. Gabriel was all barbs, snarky comebacks and one-liners. He’d sacrifice anything for a good flair. He practically pranced up to Cas, plucking Cas’s jacket off and tossing it on the chair.

            “Well hello, little bro. How have you been?” He batted his eyelashes ironically at Cas, making his way into the kitchen and helping himself to some water. Were his brothers eternally thirsty or what?

            “I’ve been swell Gabriel. Thanks for asking.” Cas grumbled, sitting in his chair. “What do you want?”

            “So testy! And here I am visiting you. Sheesh.” Gabriel rolled his eyes, sipping the water. “I really am just here to check in. See if…”

            “If I’ve heard from father?”

            “Bingo!”

            “Glad to know you care so much.” Cas sneered, drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair. Gabriel poured another glass of water, walking over the Castiel and offering it to him.

            Cas took it, sipping it slowly.

            “No really Castiel, how are you doing? This place is uh… Well not what I would go for but…”

            “From how I hear it you guys aren’t affording much better these days.”

            Gabriel rolled his eyes, waving his hand dismissively. “Who’d you hear that from? Michael? God he’s such a drama queen. We’re doing okay. We’re staying with some family of mothers. Practically the same. Balthy doesn’t like us encroaching on her space much, but she’s a teenager so I guess it’s only to be expected.”

            “She’s twenty now.”

            “How _do_ you remember it all?” Gabriel bounced to his feet again, bustling around the kitchen. He pulled out some leftover food Cas had been saving for his dinner. He’d been looking forward to it all day. All yesterday. He was making it last. Gabriel didn’t even heat it up. Just plucked up a fork and gobbled up the stir-fry without thought. “Hmm, you got a cook in the house? This is wonderful!” He tossed the package, barely a minute later. It was gone, before Cas could do anything about it. “God, you got anything else? I’m starved.”

            Castiel could feel his blood boiling, “No.” He stood. “I haven’t. Leave Gabriel.”

            Gabriel blinked at him, bent half over, leaning into Cas’s fridge. “But I only just got here!”

            “Leave. I don’t know where father is and I don’t give a shit how _hungry_ you are. Just leave.”

            “That’s not very Christian of you there little bro.”

            “Well according to you lot I’m not very Christian.”

            Gabriel stood and walked over to the door, slowly, his earlier bounce gone. He paused at the door, his hand on the handle and took a breath. “Well, we’ll just have to see.” He turned and winked at Castiel, “See ya bro.”

 

 

            Sometimes he felt like he would never stop shaking.

 

            He was lying in his bead, curled up under the blankets, sweating profusely but still somehow freezing cold. He could feel himself becoming more delirious by the second but couldn’t seem to think of anything to do about it. He knew it was morning and he needed to leave to walk to work. He had stopped talking to Dean and didn’t answer the door when he came knocking. He could walk. He needed to start walking. He pushed himself up, getting sick of this room-tilting thing that seemed to happen all the time. It almost didn’t faze him anymore. He let his blankets fall pulling on a clean shirt, he tugged at the edges, aware it was tangled around his shoulders. He fumbled for some jeans, fingers shaking on his button. He couldn’t button his pants. He felt his eyes burning with shame and frustration. He couldn’t be sick again. He wouldn’t.

            He fumbled for a few more seconds, then giving up and standing there, swaying slowly. He was so cold. He slowly sank bank down onto his bed, trembling, and let himself crawl back under his covers. He couldn’t move.

           

            “Cas, if you want to avoid people at least lock your door.”

            Cas blinked blearily at Dean and closed his eyes again. He had locked his door. His fever was worse than he thought.

            “Hey man, are you okay?” He could hear Dean coming into his room, kneeling next to his bed. Cas wanted desperately to sink back into darkness. This dream didn’t make sense.

            “Cas.”

            “I don’t want to be sick again.” Cas mumbled to his Dean. He couldn’t have Dean. He wanted him. He couldn’t want him. He felt his stomach convulsing and he coughed, clutching his throat and trying not to hurl. How could he throw up in his dream? Where was he?

            “Shit, here, a trashcan.” He felt cooler hands gripping his shoulders pulling him up and over a plastic bin. He felt his stomach muscles contracting and twisting, his esophagus throbbing, nothing but acid hitting the bottom of the can. He coughed, blood dripping from his lips. He felt himself start to cry involuntarily, and he rested his forehead against the cool plastic.

            “Go away.” He gasped, wiping at his face with shaking hands. Tears and blood smeared across his cheek.

            “Fuck Cas. What happened? What’s wrong? We need to get you to the hospital.”

            “No hospitals. Go away.” Cas pushed at Dean blindly, slumping sideways against the trashcan. “Go away!” he sputtered.

            “Oh, shut the hell up Cas, I’m not going anywhere. Fine, no hospitals. But I’m taking you to my place and we’re cleaning you up.” He picked Cas up, ignoring Cas’s weakly thrashing limbs and carried him out the door. It was raining again and Cas had the image of a blackness, stretching past Dean’s face and past the buildings, past the everything. And from it cascaded tangible, real, heavy, cold, glinting drops. He couldn’t fathom where their light was coming from, but they sparkled. Brilliant. Until it stopped. And there was just darkness.

 

            He was starting to associate warmth with Dean. He knew instantly the smell of clean sheets and cooking. He was at Dean’s again. This time he didn’t linger. He got up and pulled on one of Dean’s shirts and drawing tight a pair of pajama pants. He plodded out towards the kitchen, on a mission. He felt better than yesterday, hydrated and rested. But he couldn’t let Dean just swoop in on his life like that. It wasn’t allowed.

            “Dean.”

            Dean looked up from the counter where he’d been reading the newspaper and idly sipping a mug of coffee. He looked at Cas, eyebrows raised, frozen mid sip.

            “What do you think you’re doing?” Cas demanded, putting a hand forcefully down on the counter. “I didn’t ask for… You just… You can’t just presume I need rescuing all the time.”

            Dean set the cup down, “You think I _rescued_ you? Damn it Cas, I was just trying to keep you from fucking dying. You were coughing up blood! What was I supposed to do, leave you to choke on your own vomit?”

            “Yes! I am none of your concern! Why were you even there?”

            “To check up on you! You stopped speaking to me and everyone’s saying you’ve been looking sicker and sicker. What the hell man?”

            “I’m not your responsibility!”

            “I never said you were my god-damn responsibility Cas!” Dean stood up, his forceful nature coming to the surface sharply. “I came because I fucking give a crap and I didn’t want you to be alone. So boo on me for giving a damn.” He practically chucked his mug into the sink, standing over the counter, anger coming off him in almost visible waves.

            Cas slumped against the counter, putting his head in his hands.

            “Why are you being like this?” Dean demanded, his voice softening unexpectedly.

            Cas shook his head, his hands starting to tremble again against his head. “I don’t know. It’s all so complicated.”

            “I thought we… I mean, correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought we had something.” Dean gestured between two of them, his furrowed eyebrows and gaze tearing straight through Cas.

            “It’s not that simple.” Cas tried to insist.

            “The hell it isn’t Cas. Either you want to be with me or not.”

            “I can’t!” Castiel threw his hands up in the air, standing up in agitation. “I can’t Dean. It’s not okay. None of it. It’s all just… not okay.”

            That actually seemed to strike a nerve with Dean, who seemed to shrink into himself a little. “I thought this was something you were… okay with?”

            “I don’t know anymore Dean. It was. I thought it was. But after seeing my family again and… I don’t know. It all seems like it’s just not as simple as we thought it was.”

            _It’s wrong._

            He bit his lip. “I have to go. I’m sorry.”

            He expected Dean to try and stop him, but he just stood there, looking defeated and broken, while Cas collected his dirty clothing and left. Neither of them said anything. Everything had been said. Everything that could be said.

           

            It was a silly idea to sit in the cold wind, next to the cold ocean, when he was so cold all the times anyways. But he wanted to see the ocean. Go to the beach where he and Dean had gone. It had taken him all morning of bus transfers and about three dollars which he had picked up off the street in quarters on the way to the station. He could have used to money for a roll or a protein shake or something he needed. But he also needed this. The fresh breeze. It felt like his head was never clear anymore. Everything had seemed so stark before. So black and white. He wanted this, he didn’t want that. Easy. He wanted Dean. He didn’t want his family. He wanted food, he didn’t want to be sick. Now he was sick, he couldn’t let himself want Dean and his family were flitting in and out of his life like poison dripping on the edge of an open wound. He didn’t know how to fend them off, how to process his sudden conflicted feelings over Dean.

            He wished more than anything he had someone to talk it through with. He wasn’t close with any of the people at Bob’s. He kept to himself, working in his little basement office. The safe-room, Bob called it. Cas had never asked why. His safe-room. It was certainly one of the places Cas felt safest in. He was so grateful to Bob for giving him work. Especially after the now multiple times he had suddenly dropped off the face of the planet and not worked when he had gotten sick suddenly.

            Cas pulled his trench-coat tighter around him, shoving his hands deep in his pockets.

            He wondered where his father had gone. What was happening with that whole situation? It was so strange that now, after all these years, they would reach out to him like this. He couldn’t believe they had the audacity to ask _him_ for help after they’d dumped him like that. And that stupid note? Have faith? He’d always done his best to follow his parents ways. To go to church, believe, do good, to have faith. He’d had faith. But what kind of god supports ‘good Christians’ who dump their son on his ass like that?

            His head started to throb again and he pulled his knees up to his chest, curling up on the bench he had claimed. Did he deserve what had happened to him? Had he been the one in the wrong? Why had it been so hard for him to see their ways? Accept their terms?

            Something felt so wrong about this train of thought, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. His hands were shaking again and he started to cough, whole body hacks that wracked him to his core. He felt dizzy. He wanted to go home.

            It was cold. 


	7. Chapter 7

“If you were all going to come anyways, I don’t see why you couldn’t have just made it one trip.” Castiel said, surly, plodding in after walking home from the bus station.

            His one sister, Balthie, was in his apartment lounging on his chair with one leg draped over the edge and a book in her hand.

            “And how are you all getting in?” he continued, walking around her and the chair to his kitchen to pour a glass of water.

            She sprang up them, dancing around him and into the kitchen ahead of him. “It’s a gift.” She said cheekily, winking at him and grabbing two glasses. “You take a seat, I’ll get us water.”

            Cas stood there, feeling suspicion creeping over him. “Water.” He said, looking from her to the tap.

            She looked piercingly at him. “Yes Castiel, water. God. Do you still speak English? Go sit.”

            He shook his head slowly, trying to clear it. It felt like there was something here that he should be noticing. But he couldn’t. He turned at walked back to his chair, sitting slowly down into it, his back rigid and his face tight with concentration.

            “You’re getting me water.” He said, tilting his head and looking at Balthie, who was walking towards him with two glasses. “Why?”

            “Because Castiel, I’m nice. Now drink the freaking water. I have things to do.”

            She was always so pushy and uppity, Cas thought bitterly. He took the water, his momentary confusion and suspicion draining away by the second. He took a sip, smiled up at Balthie and took another sip.

            “Put that down Cas.”

            Castiel dropped the glass in shock, whipping his head around to his bedroom door. Dean stood there, languidly leaning against the door. He looked relaxed and coy, not at all guilty for breaking into Cas’s house and hiding in the back room.

            “What’re you doing here Dean?” Cas demanded, standing up. Balthie stood back in the kitchen, looking from the glass Cas had dropped to the sink, biting her lip.

            “Saving your ass, what does it look like?” He sneered, striding forward and grabbing the cup. He set it on the counter gingerly, wiping his hands on his jeans. “She put something in the water. I’d come to check on you again, to talk about… things.” He ran his hand through his hair, “and while I was waiting she came in. I hid in the back, I didn’t know who she was but I sensed something was off.” He looked at Balthie, who was backing into the kitchen slowly, looking scared. “And then she put something in the water. I saw her. She unscrewed the pipes and put something in there. I’m guessing it’s been in all the water you’ve been drinking.” He was cornering her in the kitchen stepping slowly closer. Cas crept closer to them, looking from the empty cup to Balthie’s big guilty eyes.

            “What’s in the water?” Dean said slowly, his voice deep with anger.

            “I didn’t sign up for this.” Balthie said, her voice shaking just slightly. She pushed forward past Dean, who grabbed her wrist. “Let me go! I’ve got nothing to do with it, I just did what they asked. I don’t give a shit about any of this.” She shook Dean off and pushed, shoved really, past Castiel. He fell easily, unsteady as he was, and Dean gave up on Balthie to catch Cas. She strode out the door, slamming it in her wake. Dean helped Cas up, propping him against the wall. He went back to the glass, sniffing it gingerly. He then went to the pipe and proceeded to pull it apart.

            “Here.” He threw down a netted thing, sopping wet on the ground. “It was lodged in the elbow piece. The netting must hold it there so the water passes over continuously. He picked it up with a pair of salad tongs, squinting at it. It was a lime green mushy ball covered in a small net bag. Cas looked at it from where he stood, baffled at the turn of events. What was his family doing to him?

            “I know someone who can look at this for us.” Dean said, standing up and popping the ball into an unused left over grocery bag. “Come on Cas. We need to figure this out.”

            “But-”

            “Save it Cas, we don’t know what’s in this stuff. You’re officially compromised. Now you’re going to listen to me and we’re going to get you better.” He grabbed Castiel’s hand pulling him out the door and to the Impala.

            They drove in silence, Dean’s face tight and serious, Cas looking dazedly out the window. He couldn’t wrap his head around it. What was happening. The lights on the streets were blurring together and he tried to focus on the individual things that flashed by. It was dark. He didn’t remember it becoming dark. But he didn’t remember most things these days.

            His eyes shut and he curled tighter in the seat, bringing his knees up to his chest. His whole body hurt.

            “Stay awake Cas.” Dean growled from the driver’s seat. Cas shifted, turning the collar up on his coat, trying to block everything out. “Stay with me.”

            _I can’t._

            Cas shook his head, none of his thoughts felt like his anymore. Nothing was his.

            Not even Dean.

 

            Dean helped Cas out of the car, like a prom date, holding his hand and gripping his arm as they made their way up the path to the dark, yet normal looking house before them. Castiel assumed most prom dates didn’t bend over in pain as they walked, stopping to cough every few feet. What was happening to him? It was so similar to the last time he got sick, but so much faster, so much more intense. Before he was sick, sickly even, and slowly everything caught up before he could get better and they had to take drastic measures to save his organs. This time it was like he was barreling down a hill with a gun pointed at his insides. Being picked off one by one.

            What was in that little net?

            “This is the house of a friend of the family. Ellen. She’ll know what to do.”

            “No doctors.” Cas croaked.

            “She’s not a freaking doctor, calm the fuck down. God.” Dean pulled him along, reaching and pounding on the door. “Ellen! Open up, I need you!”

            A middle aged woman with honey hair and tired eyes opened the door a minute later, pulling a flannel shirt tighter around her tank and shorts. She squinted at Dean, having obviously just woken up. “What in god’s name do you think you’re doing here Dean?”

            “Ellen, thank god, listen, this here’s Castiel. His families gone and fucked him up with some shit and I need your help. He doesn’t have much money and refuses to go to the hospital. And I think for now we’d all like to keep this out of authority’s hair. Could you look at him please?” He pushed past her without waiting for a proper response, pulling the coughing Cas along. He set Cas down on the couch in the front room, running to the kitchen for a glass of clean water. As he was doing so Ellen came and crouched in front of Castiel, who was slumped sideways on the cough, breathing slowly and trying not to cry. He hurt so fucking bad. He just wanted to sleep it off. His bones were sore. His skin was stretched and tired. His eyes stung and his brain felt jostled and bruised.

            “I’m sleepy.” He whispered at her, thoughts of reservation or pride gone. He was at his barest.    

            “I know honey. Just let me get a look at you and you can sleep to your heart’s content. By god but aren’t you skinny. Jesus.” She shook her head, looking up at Dean who was hovering, holding a glass of water. He sat gingerly next to Cas, handling him with more care now everything was calm and in Ellen’s control. He pulled Castiel up into a sitting position, letting him slump against him. Cas took the glass from him, gulping it down appreciatively.

            “Thank you.” He managed, leaning closer against Dean, loving his warmth. Dean put his arm around him, pulling him tight against him, secure.

            Ellen was inspecting the mesh and the green ball that Dean had handed her. “Definitely some kind of drug. Probably meant to be hallucinogenic, not out-right poisonous. I don’t know of any drugs on the market that do this sort of thing. I can think of a few hallucinogens that have rare side effects on some people like this thought. Sort of like an allergy. I’ll have Ash run a few tests, see what we can figure out.” She crouched back in front of the two boys. “In the mean time let’s try and flush his system. We don’t know how long he’s been ingesting this stuff. If he’s reacting like this… well I guess we’ll have to see how bad his reaction is. Damned what he says Dean, if it gets any worse we’ll have to take him to the hospital.”

            Dean was nodding like he was following all of this. But Castiel was barely listening. Lights were playing on the inside of his eyelids, dazzling in brightness for small infinite moments and then fading out, like fireworks, laughter, attraction. The sound of Ellen talking was blurring and distorting, welling up louder and then scampering away, echoing as if from down a long hall. He smiled to himself, entertained by the things happening to his reality. He started laughing, quiet and giggle-like, bubbling up from his stomach and bursting from his mouth. His head jolted up and down and his torso contorted in on itself. Dean paused in what he was doing, his hand going to Castiel’s head, running through his hair.

            “Cas?”

            “You’re not…” Cas gasped, his eyes flittering open and rolling back closed again, fear was creeping up his throat now, jolting his body inwards, “Mine. You’re not mine, Dean.” He buried his face against Dean’s chest, burrowing it against his chest.

            _It started to rain._

            “I don’t want to hurt anymore Dean.” He whispered, still again. He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing for all the shadows to stop twisting around him, for all the sounds in the world to stop bouncing everywhere, for his world to just fucking stop and sit still for a second. Just a second. He needed everything to be still.

            He felt Dean’s hands pull Cas directly into Dean’s lap, his legs draped across the couch, his torso enveloped in Dean’s arms. His head was tucked under Dean’s chin, his arms crisscrossed Cas’s chest to come back and grip Cas’s head. His hands covered Castiel’s ears, his neck blocking Cas’s eyes.

            _I got you Cas, I got you._

            The world was blacking out, Cas could just hear the soft thrumming of Dean’s heart, the gentle rasp of his breath. Feel his warm hands on his face, his slightly trembling arms. He’d never felt more comfortable in his entire life.

            _Have faith Castiel._

Have faith.

 

 

            Some part of him expected to wake quiet and warm, like he was starting to expect with Dean, but instead it was rude lights and shouts. Someone grabbed him by the arm and pulled him up, dragging his legs across the floor and out from under the covers. He stumbled, trying to regain his footing, his bare toes scrambling on the wood. It was Michael. He was holding both of Castiel’s arms, pinned behind him, pulling him down the hall now. Cas was bent over, trying to keep up with Michael and just barely staying upright. He was wearing a t-shirt and boxers, he felt sweaty and gross and his head was pounding. He didn’t recognize the house he was in.

            “Michael.” He groaned, trying to pull away. Michael didn’t even seem to notice.

            “I’ve got him.” He said over Castiel, pulling him into the main room. There was a couch there and Castiel vaguely remembered, remembered comfort and warmth. Heartbeats. Where was he?

            “The depraved sodomite is in the other room.” Castiel’s mother came around the corner, brushing her hands delicately on her pants. Castiel chocked on a gasp. His mother was here. He felt his throat choking up and he felt overcome with emotion. His mother. He hadn’t seen her in years.

            “Mom.” He whispered. No one seemed to notice him.

            Gabriel came pouncing in, looking happy and giddy as ever. “Everything secure. Let’s do this.”

            “What’s going on?” Castiel was awake now, his command was back in his voice. He sat up straighter, still sitting where Michael had deposited him. Michael had a firm grip on his right arm, his fingers easily wrapping all the way around Castiel’s bicep. He could feel the weakness in his muscles, feel the tired ache in his chest. He was helpless. He hated it.

            “We’re to give you faith Castiel.” His mother said softly. Her voice was intense and gentle at the same time. It commanded a room, demanded attention, took control. He missed her voice.

            “What… what did you do to Dean?”

            His mother looked at Gabriel who shrugged, smirking. “He’ll be fine. We’ll deal with him later. Right now Castiel, we have to talk about you.”

            Cas looked at all of them in turn, taking in the full depth of their appearance. While they all walked with their usual swagger, they all looked haggard. Be damned what Gabriel had said about their conditions at a friend’s house being not that different, they looked like shit. Like hadn’t showered in days, hungry and off the beaten path crazy.

            “See, I didn’t tell you everything about father leaving.” Michael said, starting to pace around Castiel. “It’s all a bit more complicated than just borrowing from the wrong people. We promised things.”           

            “What things?” He needed to keep them talking.

            “Faith.” Gabriel said, crouching in front of Cas. “That’s what it all comes down to little brother. Faith.”

            “How can you promise that?”

            “With this.” His mother pulled out a little bottle of lime green liquid, holding it up to the light. It glisten softly and Castiel recognized it as the same stuff that had been in his pipes. “Bottled faith. A little thing I had concocted a while back. A slight hallucinogenic that renders one susceptible to suggestion. Right dosage with the right words you could talk someone into believing anything. Gets right to the core of things.”

            Gabriel stood and their mother took his place, crouched, her face inches from Castiel’s. “Worked on everyone. Except you.” Her gaze pierced right through him, pinning him still. “I didn’t realize at first you were having a reaction. You were barely taking any, just enough to get rid of that annoying lifestyle you were leaning towards. By the time I noticed, you were already so sick. We couldn’t linger, couldn’t let on what was happening or be caught. And we couldn’t let our buyers find out that there was a small percentage it didn’t work on. We erased you.”  She stood, tapping her fingers on the table chair.

            “Just let me and Dean go, please, I won’t tell anyone, I’ll go back to where I was, we’ll never bug you. Please.” His heart was pounding weirdly, his test feeling tight.

            “We can’t Castiel.” She said softly, “Don’t you see? It happened again. And again I took care of it. But this time your father found out. He realized that was what happened to you. He wouldn’t listen.” She shook her head, “He wouldn’t _listen._ ” She hissed. “He said he wouldn’t be affiliated anymore. He wouldn’t poison people. I told him I did it for us. But… He left. Taking the money with him.”

            Gabriel stepped up, leaning into Cas’s face. “And then that stupid note.” He growled. “What does it mean? Have faith? In what? The drug that almost killed you?”

            Castiel’s mother ran her hands over her hair, smoothing any loose strands back into her tight bun. “Have faith.” She muttered. “That was always his phrase. Don’t worry about it. Have faith. It’ll all come together. Have faith. Castiel will return to his senses. Have faith.”

            “What’re you going to do?” Castiel couldn’t see where this was headed. Sure, they were out of money, but what could he do about it?

            “You’re our last loose end. He not only took the money but told our investors about the allergic reactions it had for some people. How the longer they took it, the worse it got.” Michael grumbled. “He didn’t have any proof except for you. So…”

            His mother stepped closer to Castiel. She pulled something black out a plastic bag. His heart lurched sickeningly. A gun.

            “We have to get rid of you. Poor, poor Castiel. So poor he lived in such a dangerous neighborhood. It would only be a matter of time before a mugging got out of hand.” She was muttering, her eyes wide and wild.

            Cold metal against his forehead.

            Heart slamming against rib cage.

            Everything blurry. Everything smeared with tears and sweat.

            “Mom.” He begged.

            Beg.

            “Please.” He sobbed.

            _I’ve got you Cas._

            “I am sorry Castiel.” She whispered. No sanity was present. No mercy.

            Nothing human was left.

            Castiel closed his eyes.

            _bang_


	8. Chapter 8

His mother crumpled on top of him, warm, heavy. Blood squirted from a hole in her neck. With each pound of her heart Castiel watched the life literally drain from her. The blood hit him in the face, the chest, then dribbled onto his lap. Her eyes were wide, shocked, horror stricken, grotesque. His mother was dead.

            He didn’t know he was screaming until someone put a hand over his mouth. He couldn’t look away from the dead eyes. Like fish’s eyes. Huge and reflective and impossibly dead. The hand over his mouth gripped the side of his face hard, slick with the blood that was there. It gripped his face in a tight clutch, jerking Castiel’s gaze forcibly from his mother’s eyes.

            Dean.

            Dean pulled Castiel up from under his mother, her body dropping with a deafening clunk. It shouldn’t be so loud. It should be so final.

            “Are you okay?” Cas felt his shoulders being jerked back and forward, his head shook with them, his arms crossing over his chest, trying to hold himself together. “Cas, are you okay?”

            Castiel didn’t know where to look. He blinked, trying to focus on the green of Dean’s eyes, trying to turn everything green. Green and good and calm and not covered in blood and poison and betrayal and everything evil.

            “She was going to shoot me.” He whispered, hands reaching forward to grip Dean’s jacket. “Shoot me. My mom. She was going to kill me.” He felt new tears rip a trail through the coagulating blood on his check, warm and sticky as he shuddered, feeling sick. “What happened?”

            “She got stopped.” Dean said gruffly, looking ill himself. “Come on, let’s get Ellen. She’s calling the police. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

            Castiel took one step, tripped on his mother’s dead body, and passed out.

 

           

            He didn’t want to wake up. Waking up kept bringing scary things. He was scared. Go back to sleep.

 

 

            “Cas, come on baby, you have to wake up.”

 

 

            All he could smell was copper. Pennies. Blood. He was drowning. Pouches in tubes and splattering warmth. Blood.

 

 

            “Cas, we’re taking you to the hospital. I’m sorry. We have to.”

            “No.”

            It was like pulling a foot from just slightly damp mud. Stuck fast, lurching forward, free. Falling again.

            “No.” He said it again, for good measure. Squeezing his eyes shut against the suddenly conscious-induced brightness.

            “Knew that would wake you up.” Dean was smiling, trying to be sarcastic but even as he blinked Cas could see the relief all over Dean’s features.

            “I’m fine.” Cas mumbled.

            “That’s what you keep saying.”

            “Where are we?”

            “We’re still at Ellen’s. You’ve only been out for a little while. The police are in the other room talking to Ellen. I asked them to save you for last. They tried to cart you off in an ambulance but I told them you couldn’t afford it, to give me a minute. I knew I couldn’t keep them off indefinitely. But they’re pretty distracted by… what’s in there.”

            The memory. _The_ memory. Black descended on Cas’s vision. He gaped his mouth, trying to regain composure, air, vision, anything. Dean’s hands practically pinched Castiel’s arms, the pain jolting him back to the ground. Cas blinked at him, Dean’s green eyes literally swimming into view. “Sorry.” He mumbled. Unsure of what he was apologizing for.

            Sorry for being a burden. Sorry for fainting like a sissy. Sorry for almost passing out on you when we first met. Sorry I can’t see when people are bad. Sorry you have to save me all the time. Sorry for pushing you away. Sorry for letting you so close. Sorry for not being able to handle it. Sorry for not being okay.

            “Just. Sorry.” He sighed, taking a deep gulp of breath and using Dean’s shoulder to pull himself up. Dean stood with him, supporting most of his weight. Cas had never felt truly small before. He felt miniscule. Insufficient. Broken.

            “Don’t be. Let’s go talk to police.”

 

            A couple of hours later a very tired Castiel was being driven to Dean’s place in the warmth of a car he didn’t remember getting into.

            It was Balthie. His sister. She had been in the other room. Had a gun. Hadn’t told anyone. Stopped her. Stopped their mother.

            Killed their mother.

            Everyone told the police exactly what happened. Michael and Gabriel were in shock. All three of them got carted away. The police tried to insist Cas go to a hospital, Dean explained he couldn’t afford it, Cas signed a release form, blindly, numbly. Dean took care of everything.

            “Will she go to jail?”

            Dean sighed, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. “I don’t know. It depends on the jury I guess. We’ll… You’ll have to testify.”

            Cas nodded, curling his knees up to his chest, feeling bad about putting his feet on the seat and doing it anyways. Dean’s classic rock played quietly on the old speakers, breathing into Cas’s head, filling it with something beyond the screaming roar of death and blood. He didn’t want to be aware any more. So he fell asleep, peaceful in the warm leather smell of love.

           

            Dean was a warm sleeper.

            Castiel rarely felt warm. But waking up next to Dean Winchester apparently meant warmth. Because that boy was a space heater. Cas had his back plastered against Dean’s chest, blanket’s pulled up to his chin and held fast there by his clenched fist. He relaxed it slowly, stretching his fingers and looking around him. Dean’s room. He smiled into the cartoon pillow, inhaling the sturdy sent of Dean. _Dean._ His Dean. How could he forget.

            “You awake?”

            Cas flinched slightly, not expecting the rush of breath against his neck, the rumbling vibration of a gravely voice thrumming against his spine.

            “Yeah.”

            Silence.

            “How do you feel?”

            Castiel pondered this question.

            “Warm.”

            Dean’s lips moved against Cas’s neck, curling into a smile. “Sorry.” He chuckled softly.

            “Don’t be.” Cas wiggled even closer, “It’s nice.”

            “You hungry?”

            “Starved.” Cas turned in place, hooking his leg through Dean’s and pressing his cheek to Dean’s neck. His scruff scratched against Cas’s forehead, sharp and endearing.

            “What do you want? I’ll make you anything.”

            “Pancakes.” Cas said without hesitation. “With strawberries.”

            “Pancakes with strawberries it is.”

            Neither of them moved.

            “Dean?”

            “Hmm?”

            “Thank you.”

            Dean pulled his head back from Cas, blinking at him, thoughtful. Slowly he pressed a thoughtful, lingering kiss on Castiel’s lips.

            “No, Cas. Thank you.”

           

            The strawberries were delicious, but not nearly as sweet as Dean’s lips after he devoured four pancakes. He pressed his syrup coated lips against Cas’s, gentle and questioning. Undemanding. Cas, surprisingly, felt something stirring up inside him he hadn’t felt in longer than he could remember. His days had been devoured by hunger and sadness and desperation. He was feeling himself thaw slowly, like chips clinking off his skin, revealing new nerve endings. New sensations. The taste of Dean’s whip cream and syrup infused mouth clawed at Castiel’s insides. He had too many before unbeknownst feelings ripping through him. His body channeled them in a way he usually didn’t.

            “Sex.” He whispered against Dean’s neck. “I want sex.”

            A guttural noise strangled out of Dean’s throat, his hands bruising Cas’s back and then his thighs. “What?”

            Castiel laughed, low and throaty, sliding off his stool and climbing onto Dean’s lap, wrapping his legs around both Dean and the stool, tangling them all together.

            “Sex. With you.”

            “Cas, I… are you…” Dean’s voice was uneven, hitching with each grinding motion Cas made against him. “O-Okay…”

            Cas smirked against Dean’s neck, biting kisses down Dean’s throat and under his shirt collar. Wordlessly he leaned back a bit to pull up Dean’s shirt, taking care to not topple them off the stool. Dean’s arms went obediently up and his hands came back down onto Cas’s hips once freed from the sleeves with force. With a possessiveness Cas couldn’t help but adore.

            Cas smiled against Dean’s lips, “Someone needs to shave.”

            A growl came from Dean’s throat and he nipped at Cas’s bottom lip, chastising. “Oh shut up you, let’s go find a flat surface.”

            “Like a wall?”

            Dean’s laugh practically echoed around them.

“Yeah, walls are good.”

 

 

Cas woke up insatiably thirsty. He slipped out from under Dean’s arm, away from the furnace they’d been producing, and patted down the hall to the sink. He chugged one tall glass of water and started sipping on a second. He stood there, looking down at his skinny limbs, feeling more lucid than he had in forever. For the first time he could see that his form was practically wasted. He had an almost grey tinge and he was all knobby and see-through.

“You are already looking better you know.”

Cas didn’t start, Dean had the lone effect of never startling him. He looked up at Dean’s golden body leaning against the door frame. His boxers hugged his hips in this perfect way, his chest was full and Cas remembered how soft it felt under his fingers. He wondered how Dean ever found Cas’s skinny white bony body attractive.

“I am?” Cas said, looking back down at the gap between his thighs and the way his ribs poked out.

“Yeah, in your eyes. The body will come later. But Cas, you’re more here than I’ve ever seen you.” Dean stepped forward, taking the glass from Cas’s hands and setting it on the counter. “And god damn, you’re beautiful.” He placed an almost chaste kiss on Cas’s cheek.

Cas smiled against Dean’s cheek, pressed to his own now. “I feel good.” He leaned back a little, looking Dean in the eyes. He could see his blue eyes reflected in Dean’s green ones. They went well together. “I’m already realizing so many things.”

Dean backed off of him and started moving around the kitchen, gathering things for breakfast. “Like what?”

“Like how long they must have been drugging me, for years even. I remember times when I was practically homeless and I’d feel free, clear. I’d realize that was I was doing was idiotic, that the hospitals will get their money when they get their money and I shouldn’t be ruining myself like this.” Cas picked up the water glass again, sipping it, loving he could trust it. “But I’d decide to pull myself together, get a place and spiral back down. They must have been keeping tabs on me, poisoning my water whenever I had a steady source of it.”

Dean nodded, chopping greens up for what looked like omelets.

“But I think me getting so skinny made it harder for it to stay in my system.”

Dean nodded again, setting down his knife. “That actually makes sense. Your body processes foods differently when you go into starvation mode and it makes your organs work differently. It can’t store any of the toxins in your fat if you don’t have any”

 “But that also explains why they had to come into my apartment more often. Especially if they decided they just wanted me gone. My… My mom knew I reacted badly to it. They wanted me out of the scene. Wandering the streets broke and broken.” Where dangerous people lurked.

He paused.

“They wanted me to fall.”

 

 

He held Dean’s hand at the funeral.

Not many people showed up.

Cas didn’t even cry.

_Here lies Naomi Novak._

_A Mother_

_A Woman of Faith._

 

 

He figured out the note a few days later. The money. The note. Have faith. Of course.

Dean was at work, Cas was taking a week off to ‘regroup’ and ‘heal’. He was so grateful to Bob for being so patient.

Cas took the bus into the city, looking around at the place he’d grown up. He went past their old house, where a newer richer family had moved in. He went past the church where his father had preached. It looked barren. Things had fallen so far.

He walked into the local bank, the only one he knew his father used. He told the clerk his name.

The clerk handed him a pin pad, asking with a bored voice for his five digit code.

3-2-4-8-4

_Faith._

The clerk asked him what he wanted to do.

“What’s the balance?”

He was handed a small cheap piece of receipt paper.

_Balance of: 2,400,000._

He stood there, hand shaking, staring at the paper.

A smile slowly grew on his face.

His head felt clear, his smile was bright, his limbs were comfortably sore from having voracious sex with the most amazing man he’d ever met all night and he was holding proof that he was suddenly a millionaire. He had fallen.

Fallen to Earth.

And it had finally stopped raining. 

 

 

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah! A bit unrealistic I admit, but it started as a word-doodle and just kind of went from there. Haha. In my head it's a good mix of dark and light which is everything I love, realism be damned. So there's that. Hope you enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> I posted some of this a while ago and took it down cause I'm self conscious but my friend is goading me to repost. so yay.


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